NaNoWriMo 2011

The following is the story set in Rohinval and written for NaNoWriMo 2011. It is very much a draft, unedited. So there are errors, inconsistencies and no doubt typing errors as well. At the start I knew nothing about Azam or any of the other areas the main character, Sharli, visits. Nor was I fully aware of the magic, or the institutions, or the cultures. The story was written with 2 main aims: to get into the habit of writing (almost) daily, when time and circumstances allowed; and to explore these regions of Rohinval. From the first sentence, Sharli captured me and took charge. I do love it when characters do that!!! Within the first few sentences my whole concept of the character and the ‘plot’ changed dramatically. I let the story unravel as it would and was surprised on more than one occasion by events

SHARLI

Chapter one

That shouldn’t have happened. Sharli looked in horror at the burning hut as the women of the tribe rushed over, screaming.

“Fire!” shouted one of the elders. Grabbing hold of the youngest children and pulling them away to safety. “Water! Brooms!!! Everyone!!!”

Sharli shrunk back as the other women did what they could to beat out the flames, others running to the river with pitchers and what ever container came to hand.

“Was that you girl?”

Aldhira swung her around, strong despite her age, the wizened face glowering as Sharli tried to pull away.

“Well? Was it?”

“I think so… it wasn’t meant to happen… I didn’t mean it!” wailed Sharli. “I just looked at it and thought….”
“Thought. Yes, you thought it. You are a danger, girl. Unsafe. You know that you can’t stay, don’t you? Not now. Not if you want to live,” snarled the wise woman. “Best go. Now. Before the men return from the hunt. If Oxhelm catches you, you’ll be dead before the sun slips below the trees.”

“Go? But where?”

The old woman shrugged. “That’s your problem. Yrholm? Perhaps they will be more willing to take in a witch-child.”

“But the towns folk are evil, you all say so. How can I live there?”

Aldhira cackled. “Beats me. Perhaps the likes of you can survive there. Up to you. Oxhelm will burn you if you’re still here when he gets back. You know that. Thank me, child, for letting you run. But you’d best be gone. The men will be back soon, once they see the smoke.” She nodded to where the black smoke billowed into the clear skies above the canopy. It was a signal no one would ignore. Sharli swallowed, ran toward her hut and was trying to grab her meagre belongings as her mother came in.

“So, you run, eh? About time. Worthless slut. You been nothing but trouble to me. No man would have you, only Oxhelm. Now he won’t want you, except to kill. You cost us dear, child. You and your sister both. And you stop getting stuff, you hear? You can leave with nothing. If you die out there, then the gods will be happy.”

Sharli ducked the blow her mother aimed at her, grabbing her blanket and the small carved statue of Eshuanti that she’d made herself, avoiding her mother’s hand again as she deftly ran around the central fireplace and out through the doorway. Her mother’s curses followed as Sharli headed through the bushes toward the path leading down river. A quick glance told her that the women were winning the battle. The flames were all but gone but Oxhelm’s hut was no more than smouldering ashes, his precious belongings lumps of charcoal.

“Oh goddess, why?” breathed Sharli, clutching the statuette close to her breast as she began to run along the path and away. Away from the only home that she’d ever known.

It was an hour or so later when she heard the distant shouts behind her. The men had obviously returned to the village and were probably already giving chase. Sharli was a fast runner but she wouldn’t be able to outrun them. Already she had stumbled a few times in her panic, and one of her legs was bleeding from where she had brushed too close to a thorn-spike tree. The river was probably her only option but that had its dangers too. She hoped the men would assume that she’d stayed on the path; no one in her village ever swam. Apart from her. Something they always forgot. With a glance backwards she veered off the path and plunged through the bushes, avoiding various obstacles as she headed through the trees toward the water.

A few minutes later and she stood on the sandy river bank. The water seemed calm, the rocks here fewer than further upstream. Luckily the rainy season had long gone otherwise she would never be able to survive the torrent. Now, though, she stood a chance. Sharli looked down at her leg, the cuts bleeding, and cursed. If the alligators got a smell of the blood there would be no escaping their teeth. She searched the nearby undergrowth and found a few attya leaves by the water’s edge, then pulled down a vine, cutting it with the knife that she always wore in her belt. Quickly Sharli wrapped the leaves carefully around her leg, tying them in place with the vine. It would have to do. Tying the blanket around her body and tucking the knife and statuette into her belt, Sharli stepped into the water and began to swim, staying as close as possible to the shore as she kept an eye out for predators.

The current helped her, taking her with it as the river moved swiftly between the trees, but even so it was tiring, keeping away from the rocks and the dangers of overhanging branches as well as avoiding swirling eddies that would drag her under.

Sharli had no idea how long she swam. Every now and then she’d see an alligator on the far shore or swimming lazily in the distance. Each time she nervously swam closer to the bank, prepared to leave the river in a hurry if danger threatened. Luck seemed to be with her, though, and the river slowed its pace, the trees began to thin and in the distance she eventually saw buildings looming above the ground.

Exhausted, Sharli drew herself out of the water and sat shivering on the bank, despite the heat. Had she out-swam the men? She didn’t know. The only sounds were those of the rushing water, the caws of gryl birds and shrieks of redwings. Her blanket was sodden and she unwrapped it from around her body, wringing out as much of the water as she could before laying it on the ground in the hope that it would dry.

For the first time she allowed herself to think on what had happened. How had the hut caught fire? Was she really to blame? Regardless, they thought she was and that was enough to have her condemned. All she knew was that she’d been standing there, glowering at Oxhelm’s hut, dreading the marriage that was to come. She shuddered. How could her mother make her wed the man? He was old enough to be her father! Ugly too. A good hunter, yes, that was known. And a warrior. But she had never once seen any kindness from the man and his other wives had all worn bruises and scars. But he was chief and entitled to any woman he wished for. And Sharli was pretty, according to the other women. Something that, despite her ‘odd’ behaviour made her attractive to Oxhelm even if the other men in the village refused to take her. They all knew of her family history, of how her sister had been condemned as a witch-child, as had her aunt. She should be lucky, her mother had said.

“Fortunate that the chief of our village wants you. Two years on from your first blood and still single. It’s the only chance you’ll have child. It’s him, or no one. Think of the prestige. For us all. You’ll wed him, girl, that you will.”

Sharli had protested though when her mother had told her what was to happen last night. Suffered a beating for it then spent all night tossing and turning. And this morning she had gone to stare at Oxhelm’s hut, fearful and in dread of what was to be her fate. And wishing the chief ill, she knew. Wishing that his hut and his possessions would burn so that he wouldn’t be held in such high esteem and that he’d be in no position to wed her on the morrow. And as she wished she’d felt that tingling in her body, the warmth spreading into her arms and hands, imagined a picture of the hut on fire and felt an explosion within her body as the hut caught fire. Drained for a few moments, she’d stepped back, fallen to her knees. Heard the shouts. The hut was on fire, as she’d pictured it, willed it, to be.

Shaking her head in disbelief Sharli cried. Why did these things happen to her? Why? The branch that had fallen on her father after he had beaten her for speaking her mind was the first time she’d had the tingling and the visions. That had been soon after her first blood. His legs had been broken and he’d died several months later. Had she been to blame? No one had pointed their finger at her for that but Sharli knew, deep inside, that she may well have killed him.

Other things had happened since, but all minor in comparison. Aldhira had watched her, she knew. Sharli had seen her, seen the look in her eyes, noting each event, the wise woman’s suspicions no doubt increasing as things that shouldn’t happen and couldn’t be coincidental seemed to occur when Sharli was around. She knew Aldhira spied on her, had grown to dislike the old woman, even to fear her. Had known that it was only a matter of time before the crone announced her publicly as a witch-girl. She’d seen it happen before. Poor Orisha had been scrutinised and accused. Sharli had watched her older sister burn and the memory made her shake and sob even more.

Eventually, though, Sharli shook herself. It wouldn’t happen to her. She’d get away, leave the jungle behind her, run as far as she had to. She’d live. She would! Brushing away the tears she pulled herself up and picked up the blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders. She would need to find a top as soon as she reached Yrholm. It was only a small town, according to the tribal elders, although to Sharli it seemed enormous. She disliked the place, even feared it. The market was always noisy, always far too many people for her to feel happy and the smells of dirt and grime and tanning always filled the air and made her ill. They looked down on the villagers, too – the ‘jungle’ people they called them, savages she’d heard them say more than once. Tribal women were regarded easy prey for men who had only one thing on their mind, seemingly attracted by the narrow cloths that barely hid their breasts and their bare bellies. So the other women in the village said. As a group they paid no heed. Together they were safe, especially with their men to protect them. Alone, though, Sharli knew she’d be walking into danger as well as into a world where attitudes and culture were alien to her. It was, however, her only choice. Pulling back her shoulders and ignoring the damp blanket and her shivers, Sharli followed the river and headed for the town.

Chapter Two

As luck would have it she reached the outskirts of Yrholm as dark descended. It gave her some protection as she approached the outer buildings. Bigger than the huts in her village, most were constructed of stone rather than mud, wood and leaves. They loomed large over her, her eyes adjusting quickly to the night. The moon was dying in the sky above, a thin sliver that would also aid her in her bid to remain hidden. Scanning the gardens and plots around the houses Sharli eventually spotted what she needed – a garment these people named a tunic. Hanging out to dry on the thorns of a yellow prickly pear shrub it was far enough away from the nearest house that she stood a chance of taking it unseen. She hid in the shadows as she checked for any sign of people until deciding that the only voices came from within the lit house. With any luck they were too busy eating to notice anyone outside. Sharli ran forward and tugged the tunic free, fear rising in her throat as a shout came from inside. Not waiting to see who had spotted her she ran back into the shadows and scooted between trees and shrubs until finding a place in which to hide. The hollow was beneath the roots of a lurriba tree, dark and deep enough for her to crouch in relative ease. She listened intently, waiting, biting her lip and sweating, her limbs quivering. There was the sound of heavy feet thumping the ground, curses and heavy breathing but the voices didn’t come close. Eventually her pursuers drifted away and Sharli sighed with relief. Her first hurdle had been overcome.

Cautiously she emerged from her hole and examined her prize. It was rough spun wool, probably from a diria. Undyed. Still damp and the reason it had been left out overnight. But it was a common tunic and would go unnoticed as far as she could tell. Removing her blanket and breast-cloth Sharli pulled on her new garment, untying her woven belt and replacing it above the tunic. It was long and obviously made for someone much taller but it would do. She carefully removed her grass skirt, stashing it beneath the roots. The tunic felt strange, the material rough against her skin and constraining her movement slightly. Briefly she considered the belt but decided it was common enough. She’d seen women in the town wearing them, or similar belts, and it was useful, for not only did it hold her knife, it also had hidden pockets within which were a few coins. A mere handful that she doubted would get her far but she was grateful for them nonetheless. Sharli wondered what to do with the breast-cloth. She was loathe to leave it for she had woven it herself. She might be able to use it somehow, she decided, so tucked it into her belt along with the statuette. As for her blanket she could tie it around her shoulders as a make-shift cloak. It would possibly set her apart but it was dark brown, like many of the cloaks the town women wore and at night should go unnoticed.

With a prayer to Eshuanti to thank her for her good fortune so far Sharli set out for the town, keeping to the shadows, wondering where to go. Perhaps the docks were her best bet. If she was lucky, she could beg passage on one of the river boats heading downstream. But fear dogged her steps. Had the men reached the town too? Was she safe? Would she manage to escape?

Those questions and more flooded her mind as she walked through the town. Noise from within various buildings spilled out onto the dirt streets, light from oil lamps half-hidden behind closed shutters the only illumination. Yet Sharli had no difficulty seeing. It had always been a gift of hers. Darkness held no terror of blindness for her as it did for the majority of her tribe. Tonight it was her friend for she quickly realised that people here had limited vision, torches and carried lanterns giving away their location long before they passed her. It made them easy to avoid and she ducked into dark doorways and alleyways, remaining still and hidden until the danger had passed her by.

Slowly she made her way through the winding streets, the odours of spices and cooking only partially muffling the stench that saturated the town. How people lived with such smells all the time Sharli couldn’t guess. To her they were alien and obnoxious. Perhaps they got used to them but she decided that she never would. She found herself on the edge of the market square and halted. There was nowhere to hide were she to cross the open space and yet she needed to reach the docks on the far side.

There were more people here, crowds of men crossing the square and entering taverns and other houses that she knew were for men only. They went there for sex, her mother had told her with disgust when Sharli, only a child, had gawked at the colourfully dressed women outside chatting to men. Then she hadn’t understood, and still didn’t fully grasp the concept of houses full of women willing to have sex with any man who wanted it. Such things would never happen within the village or within any of the tribal settlements. Women had sex with men, yes, but only once married. All she knew was that here, those houses, and the taverns, were best avoided.

Cautiously she made her way around the outside of the square, dodging back into alleyways whenever she felt threatened. There were no single women here, apart from those in the colourful clothes. It was a realisation that made her fearful. What would happen if she were noticed? She dreaded being held, being taken into one of those awful houses. More, she feared the taverns with the smell of alcohol and stench of rotting food that seemed to permeate them. Light spilled out from them making it difficult to pass unseen. A couple of times she risked venturing further into the darkness of the square to pass them, darting back into the shadows of closed shops and houses as soon as she could.

But eventually she came to an area where such  actions were impossible. There was a large group of men outside a large tavern, some staggering, all noisy. Shouts erupted and at first she thought that she had been spotted and stepped back into the shadows of a nearby shop, ready to run. But then she noticed two men at the centre, swords in their hands. A fight, then. It wasn’t something she’d seen, men fighting with swords. The villagers used spears and staves, not swords. The clash of metal upon metal thrilled her and she stood, drawn in, as the men danced around each other, advancing then withdrawing, the strips of metal glinting as they clashed time after time. So pre-occupied with the fight did she become that it was a while before she became aware of another presence in the square. A large group of men with spears. The men from the village, walking toward the tavern. Some of the crowd turned toward them as Oxhelm shouted.

“We seek a girl, one of our own. Anyone seen her?”

Sharli looked back. The nearest alley was some distance away but it was her best hope. She darted toward it but wasn’t quick enough. Oxhelm, his voice booming, shouted “Is that her?”

She sensed him pointing, heard men running in her direction. Heart thumping Sharli reached the alley, dove along the narrow street, seeking ways out of it. But it was blocked at the far end by a big wall, the back of some house, she guessed. There was nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide.

And then an arm grabbed her and pulled her into a building, the large wooden door slamming shut.

“Shhhh!” hissed the woman. “You’ll be safe here. In there!”

She pointed to another doorway and Sharli darted through as she heard shouts outside. The door closed behind her as cries came closer and bangs reverberated on the main door. There were voices, some loud enough for Sharli to hear, despite the thick walls and the closed door.

Oxhelm demanded to search the place, but the woman declined.

“Seen no-one here, m’lords,” she declared.

“Don’t believe you, woman of the night,” growled Oxhelm. “We saw the girl we want come this way. Griff here said she came through this door.”

“No one came in here, apart from one of my own girls. Must have been her you saw. None of your kind came here. Why would they?”

More voices, muffled, that of a girl, another man. Sharli strained to hear what was said but the other people were further away, their voices softer.

“I’d never believe any of you,” Oxhelm bellowed. “Now, get out of my way. She’s in here, I swear it!”

The woman again, her voice dismayed yet stern. Deliberately raised so that Sharli could hear. “Very well. Search if you must. But it was my girl who came in, not one of your jungle girls.”

“Griff,” bellowed Oxhelm. “Check the place!”

“Me? In this den?”

“Yes. You heard!!!”

Glancing around, Sharli looked for somewhere to hide and crawled beneath a large bed, the cover long enough that it draped upon the floor and hid her from view. Hardly daring to breathe she lay still as the door opened. Oxhelm’s voice echoed from beyond the main door. “Well?” he bellowed.

“Nothing here,” remarked Griff, Oxhelm’s oldest son. As vicious as his father, probably more so. Sharli almost winced but after a few moments she heard him walk out, and heard the door close.

“Leave it,” growled Oxhelm. “She ain’t here, not in this whore’s den. And if she is, good luck to her…”

Scuffling feet, mumbles, a door banging closed. Then silence. She was safe.

CHAPTER THREE

Only moments later and the door opened again.

“You can come out now,” declared the woman. “They’ve gone.”

Sharli peeped out first, making sure the woman was alone before emerging, her eyes blinking as they became accustomed to the light from the lamp that the woman was holding. She was dressed in a red gown, covered in what Sharli decided was lace. It seemed incredibly beautiful but it also gave her a shock as she took in the scents of flowers that pervaded both the woman and the room. Her senses felt on edge, almost screaming at her to run. But run where? The men were still in the town, and no doubt would stay for several hours, if not longer. Neither the town nor this house were safe.  Yet what choice did she have? The words ‘whore’s den’ echoed warningly in her mind as the woman spoke.

“Jungle girl, eh? You had me fooled for a moment, dressed in that tunic. Never seen one of you in anything but grass skirts and them cloth strips you wear. Tunic stolen, I guess. Still, I won’t tell…” she said as Sharli looked down at her feet, shame darkening her cheeks. “You must have done something bad for them to come here. What was it, eh?”

Sharli shrugged.

“No matter,” the woman continued. “No need to worry, had rougher girls than you come here to keep safe. You hungry?”

Now the question was asked, Sharli realised she was and nodded. The woman laughed.

“No need to be shy, and I won’t bite. I promise. I chose to save you from those hyenas out there. Come with me to the kitchen, we have fruits and bread aplenty. Oh and call me Mama Rhiaz. You?”

“Sharli,” she mumbled. “And thank you…”

Mama Rhiaz nodded, smiling. Her dark brown eyes almost seemed to glow in the lamp light, and she held out her hand. “Sharli, a pretty name. Here, it must all seem strange. Have you ever been in a stone-built house before?”

“Not a house, no. But the shops. And the Market Hall.” She stubbornly refused to take the woman’s hand and Mama sighed, opening the door and beckoning Sharli to follow.

“Ah, of course. I forget that you’re not all complete savages. The kitchen’s this way.”

Sharli squirmed at the reference to savages but followed the woman anyway. Hunger, tiredness and common sense rose above any anger. At least for now she would be safe from the men and hidden. If this Mama Rhiaz had intentions apart from keeping her away from immediate danger then she would deal with them later. For now fatigue and the strangeness of the situation left her little choice but to go where she was bidden.

The corridor was narrow but well lit, oil lamps hanging from sconces on the painted walls. Rush mats covered the stone floor and laughter spilled out of rooms to her right. Sharli glanced through one open door. It was similar to the one she had just left. A large bed stood by the far wall, whilst material was draped over windows and wooden chairs. The corridor turned left then steps led down into a large kitchen. A girl sat at one of the tables, her long hair swept back with fancy netting, her low-cut dress revealing her large breasts. Sharli knew at once that her fears were right. This was no normal household. No town woman ever wore clothes like that. But she had no time to question as Mama Rhiaz urged her to sit at the table and handed her a platter with bread, placing a bowl of mixed fruits and some cheese next to her as she spoke.

“Dion, this is Sharli. She’ll be staying the night. Possibly longer. She’s had a rough day, I think, and needs our help. Can you show her to one of the upper rooms after she’s eaten so that she can rest?”

Mama Rhiaz’s tone was pleasant but stern. Dion nodded “Yes, Mama, of course.”

“Good. I have business to attend to. I’ll see you again in the morning Sharli.”

“Thank you,” Sharli murmured as the woman swept out of the kitchen, leaving her alone with Dion. The other girl watched as Sharli ate, dark grey eyes appraising her with disdain. After a few minutes Dion turned her head, obviously deciding that Sharli was beneath her notice.

“Hurry up!” she snarled. “I ain’t got all night.”

“I’ve almost done,” Sharli replied, trying to remain courteous. Although it was hard. Part of her felt like slapping the girl who was obviously younger than she was by at least two or three years. In the village no child would speak to a woman that way. Even if many of the village women refused to accept Sharli as an adult, not until she was wed.

She ate in silence, enjoying the fruit and cheese, slipping some cheese into her belt when Dion wasn’t looking. It wasn’t something she would normally do. Tonight though was so strange and so different and Sharli was worried that if she were to stay here long, she’d end up like Dion. And that was something she was determined not to do. The first chance she had, she’d run.

Eventually she followed Dion up a narrow staircase that led from the kitchen. There were several doors leading off the upper corridor, close together, so that Sharli guessed the rooms here were small. When Dion opened a door and told Sharli this was hers for the night, she was proved right. A narrow wooden bed stood by one wall, just enough space for a chair and small table, upon which stood a candle, next to it and a chest at the end of the bed. Sharli thanked Dion as the girl turned without saying more and closed the door behind her. A key jangled, turning in the lock that until then Sharli hadn’t noticed. She jumped in surprise, gasped as she heard footsteps retreat back down the corridor then tried the door and cursed. There was no window, no other way out. She was imprisoned.

CHAPTER FOUR

Despite her fears Sharli slept reasonably well. Exhausted by the physical effort as well as her mental state it had only been a few moments after she laid down that sleep had claimed her. Now she sat on the bed, with no idea what time it was or for how long she slept. She could hear nothing from outside the room so if it was daylight, as she believed it was, people were either still sleeping or had left the building. Leaning against the wall, Sharli considered her situation. If this was indeed a whore’s den then she could be in serious trouble. She had heard rumours of how women like Mama Rhiaz would take in girls from the streets and use them in these houses, making them have sex with men. She wondered if that was why the girls and women here did what they did. They had no choice. Although Sharli couldn’t see how any woman would stay for long. Surely there must be some way to escape, to flee the confines of the room.

She felt uneasy at being in such a small room with no light or exit. Used to the sounds of birds and creatures and the wind and rain this room seemed eerie in its stillness. Growing restless Sharli rose and began to walk up and down in the small space available to her. Panic began to grow within her and sweat formed on her brow. Just as she was about to consider hammering on the door and screaming there were footsteps outside and a jangle of keys. Sharli turned to face the door as Mama Rhiaz opened it, a tray in her hands.

“Breakfast,” she announced striding up to the bed and laying the tray down.

“Why did you lock me in?” demanded Sharli, not looking at the food.

“Why, dear, for your safety. I wouldn’t have wanted those men to have found you wandering around if they came back. Now, I’ll leave you to eat, then we can talk.”

“I don’t to eat. Or talk. I want to go,” said Sharli stubbornly. “You can’t keep me here against my will!”

“And who said I would do that?” The woman’s voice was oily, her manner commanding. “Eat, it would be a shame for you to starve after you escaped death last night. At least, I assume you did?”

Sharli shrugged. “Possibly. But it still doesn’t change anything. I’m not staying here to be turned into one of your whores!”

A flicker of anger crossed Mama Rhiaz’s face before she smiled and nodded to the food. “And why would you think that?”
“You don’t deny it, then? That this place is a whore’s den?”

“We don’t call it that. This is a brothel, perfectly legal, and well run. You could do far worse than stay here, you know. In fact, I’m sure you’d do well…”

The woman reached over and started to brush back Sharli’s hair with her hand. “So pretty…” she was saying as Sharli felt her anger rising. Trapped by the woman, confined in a small dark space, afraid, she pushed Mama Rhiaz’s hand away from her and knocked her backwards before sprinting from the room. She could feel the tingling beneath her skin but tried to dampen the sensation, to stop doing anything that she would later regret. Pounding down the stairway she pelted into the kitchen and toward the steps and the corridor that she knew led out. But when she reached the door it was locked. She banged on it with her fists as Mama Rhiaz walked slowly toward her.

“Now then, no need for this. No need at all,” she said. Sharli spun, glowering.

“Stay away!” she warned. Then turned and envisioned the door blasting open. It did. In rather dramatic fashion. Splinters and pieces of wood showered into the corridor and on to the street and Sharli, used to the effects that her witchery could have, leapt through.

It was light outside, but the alley was empty. Early then, she guessed, as she ran back toward the market square and straight across to the docks. No hiding now. If Oxhelm and Griff were still around it would be over for her but she doubted that they would be up this early.

A few people were out, their faces registering surprise at the girl tearing across the dirt as if being chased by hellcats. She didn’t care. This was her chance and she was going to take it. Heart pounding she raced onto the docks and stopped briefly to assess the boats as cries reached her. Who, she didn’t know, but it didn’t sound good. A river boat was just leaving, the ropes untied. Already it was two or three feet from the bank. Desperate to escape, Sharli ran and jumped, landing badly on the wooden deck as shouts of “Stop her!!!” and “Thief!” rang out behind her.

But it was too late. The boat was already out on the river and being taken swiftly by the current, the sails filling with wind. Sharli, her ankle swelling and the effect of her witchery having taken its course, slid into darkness.

CHAPTER FIVE

She woke to find a large man leaning over her, his face covered in a black beard and moustache, green eyes concerned despite his frown as he huffed “Awake then eh? That was some leap. Thief, they called you. True?”

Sharli groaned. She felt miserable. Pain wracked her lower leg, her whole body seemed to be shivering and swaying. “No.” she muttered. “Well, maybe,” she added. “The tunic..”

“Well if that was all you took I wouldna hold it against you,” the man replied. “Still, now, what to do with you?”

Wincing Sharli tried to sit, for the first time realising that she was in a hammock. Had the man not held her down she would have fallen to the floor. At least that explained why she was swaying.

“Careful now, that leg o’yours will be causing you pain for a while. Aldernon will patch it up for you… talk o’the devil!” The bearded man turned as a slimmer man ducked beneath a doorway and came toward them. It was a narrow room, Sharli noted, from what she could see. It was difficult to focus or to think properly.

“I’ll leave you to her,” exclaimed the man as he left and the newcomer approached, immediately examining her leg. She almost screamed.

“Broken ankle,” announced Aldernon, “Don’t you worry, we can fix that, but it’ll be painful for a while. Surprised that’s all you got. Mind, you should have seen the look on Captain Haldor’s face,” he chuckled as he rummaged in a bag. “First time he’s had any woman leap onto his boat, I bet. Most would be leaping off!!!”

Sharli closed her eyes, letting Aldernon work. Her throat was dry and the rocking of the hammock was beginning to make her feel sick. “I don’t feel too good,” she muttered. “Any water?”

“Aye, of course, what was I thinking? Here, I’ll get you some.”

She heard his footsteps retreat, returning a few minutes later, a hand gently sliding beneath her shoulders, another arm going behind her back as Aldernon explained “Here, it will be easier to splint that leg of yours if you’re not swinging around, and to drink, no need to be afraid.”

A moment later and she was sitting on a large trunk. It seemed slightly less sickening as she leant gratefully against the cabin wall. Thanking him, she drank deeply from the water that he gave her. The queasiness lifted slightly and her throat returned to normal.

“Better?”

Weakly Sharli nodded. “Think so. Stopped swaying…”

Aldernon laughed. “First time on a boat?”

“One like this,” she admitted. “Dugouts, that’s all, before this.”

“Dugouts?” he queried as he knelt on the floor and began cleaning her leg, apologising when she winced. “I’ll be as gentle as I can. Seems a clean break, shouldn’t cause you any long term damage. These dugouts, are they made from logs then?”

“Start off as logs, yes. We dig out the wood, make small boats we can paddle.”
Aldernon worked all the time they spoke, his pale hands deftly washing her leg before he smoothed on a cold green paste. It seemed to ease the pain and Sharli sighed.

“Working already eh,” Aldernon said. “Good. So, you’re not from Yrholm then. One of the tribes further up river I guess?”

“Yes. Who was chasing me?”

“Men. With spears. They seemed keen that you didn’t get away. Oh and a woman too, one of them brothel keepers I would imagine, given her fancy attire. She was the one who called you thief. Are you?”

Sharli sighed. “I stole this tunic last night. I knew I couldn’t walk around the town safely without looking like a town woman. It was wrong. I feel so ashamed,” she blubbered, tears welling in her eyes.

Aldernon looked up from wrapping the bandage around her ankle. “Hey, if that’s the only crime you did, no need to feel shamed, lass. I heard of far worse crimes than that. And what you did sounds more like survival to me.”

His voice was kind, his words soothing. Yet still she cried. He said no more for a while, finishing off the bandaging and splinting her ankle, his hands working deftly. Finally he sat back on his haunches looking up at her.

“Done. You should rest, sleep if you can. Drink this first though, it will aid the healing.”

Sharli looked at the proffered pink potion with some alarm but Aldernon assured her it would be good for her. Taking an initial sip and finding the liquid relatively pleasant, Sharli swallowed it all and handed the cup back to him. So far he had done her no harm and she was beginning to like the man, despite his paler skin. She’d seen men like him before, although not many made it up the river to Yrholm. She had no idea what they did. Traders she’d assumed and her tribe seemed to agree that was the most likely.

“Good. Now, I’ll put you back in the hammock so that you can sleep for a while.” He lifted her easily and laid her down gently, pulling a blanket around her. “Now, no more tears, eh?” he said, wiping her cheeks. “What’s done is done. We’ll talk later.”

Thinking that she wouldn’t sleep, Sharli began to protest that she wasn’t tired but a yawn gave her away. Her eyes closed almost against her will and she drifted into a deep slumber.

CHAPTER SIX

It was dark when she woke. A lantern hung from the ceiling swung very slightly with the motion of the boat, the light it cast making patterns on the walls. Sharli lay there quietly for a while, trying to get her thoughts into some sort of order. Almost she felt as if she was still asleep, dreaming the sensations of throbbing pain in her leg and the gentle swaying of the hammock. But she gradually recalled everything that had happened, her thoughts slowly but surely coalescing into the present, bringing her the notion that she was safe from Oxhelm, safe from Mama Rhiaz. For a moment she felt happy, content. However, that feeling didn’t stay with her for long. Feet above her, male voices calling out, reminded her of where she was. On a river boat with strangers. Heading toward she knew not where. Beginning a new life with no coin, no friends, no aims.

What would she do? What could she do? There was no way she wanted to be like those girls in that brothel. To her it seemed a strange and awful way to live, having sex with men who came to the door. One thing that kept tickling her thoughts was her witchery. It had actually proved useful! She had used it, hadn’t she, to blast that door and escape? Was there a way to control it?

She was still thinking about that when Aldernon appeared at the doorway, his pale flace glistening in the lantern light.

“Ah good, you’re awake. Fancy something to eat?”

“Please,” Sharli replied. “Though I have little in the way of coin to pay for it…”

Aldernon laughed. “If Captain Haldor demands payment for your passage, I’ll deal with him. Come, let me help you off that hammock and to the galley.”

“Galley?” queried Sharli.

“Ah, of course, you’re new to boats. Galleys are the kitchens. Though on a boat this size you can hardly call them that. More like a narrow chamber with a long table and a bench and a place for the cook to prepare food. You’ll see.”

He helped her off the hammock and out of the sleeping quarters into a passageway, his arm around her so that she didn’t have to put too much weight on her ankle. Luckily it was only a very short distance to the galley, the smells of a meat stew assailing her as they entered. It was as he had described – a thin room with a large table and bench along one side with an oven, pots, pans and working area on the other. How anyone could cook in here Sharli didn’t know. It seemed as if there wasn’t enough room for anyone to work properly. Yet the short man who placed a bowl of stew and a platter of bread onto the table had obviously done so.

Aldernon eased her onto the bench and grabbed a bowl of stew for himself, sitting down beside her. The food smelled good and Sharli lost no time in eating it. She was wiping the bowl with bread to get the last morsels when Aldernon chuckled.

“Think you needed that,” he grinned. “Orli, seems at least one person likes your cooking!”

“About time!” retorted the cook, removing the now empty bowls from the table. He seemed surprised when Sharli thanked him, blushing slightly and shrugging. “Glad you liked it.”

“And now, time to go up on deck, I think. Here, let me help you.”

It took a lot of effort to get up the steps to the deck but Sharli was pleased that she’d made it as the fresh breeze caught her hair and cooled her face. She hadn’t realised how hot it had been below. Now she hobbled to the side of the boat, leaning on the side rails and peering out across the land. There were no trees here, just what seemed like miles of grass. She spotted a few diria lapping at the water, seemingly unperturbed by the boat as it passed. Beyond them were herds of some animal that she’d never seen and she asked Aldernon what they were.

He looked at her, surprised. “I can’t see them, but they’re probably weldia. Plenty of them roam the grasslands. Tell me, what else can you see?”

“A few shrubs. Hills on the horizon. No details, just enough to make out shapes. Moving things, like those weldia?” He nodded when she paused. Pleased that she had remembered the name correctly, Sharli continued “A few buildings too, but I can’t be sure.”

Aldernon was silent for several minutes and so she remained quiet too, not wanting to break the peace. Hoots from night-birds, the rush of water against the sides of the boat, the flapping of the sails and the distant huffing of the weldia were the only sounds. She’d lapsed into an almost dream-like state when her trance was broken.

“Are the others of your tribe able to see so far?” asked Aldernon, his eyes regarding her intently. For a moment she felt a ripple of fear but swallowed quickly, answering “No. They call me witch-child.”

“Ahhhhh. Which is why you left?”

Such an innocent question but one that brought memories flooding back and filled her eyes with moisture once more.

“Yes,” she squeaked. “I did something… bad.”

Aldernon took her hand gently in his. “No, not bad. Though I suspect you weren’t able to control it. Am I right?”

“Yes… and no. It was bad. I set fire to the chief’s hut.”

“That, I have to admit, isn’t good. Was there a reason?”

“I was to wed him. But he’s vicious, cruel. All his wives are covered in bruises. I didn’t want to be one of them.”
“All of his wives?” Aldernon seemed flummoxed.

“He has five. I would have been the sixth. Well, the eighth – two died giving birth.”

“And having that many wives is common?”

“For a chief, yes. The more he has, the more he is respected. And it ties the villagers to him. Other men – perhaps two, sometimes three. But no more. Why? Isn’t it the same everywhere?”

Aldernon shook his head, wisps of his long brown hair escaping from the threads that tied them into a single strand down the back of his head. It was a style that Sharli had only seen on town men. No tribesman would ever tie back his hair. Yet it suited him, she thought, as he explained “No. One wife is regarded enough for any man. I can see that you have much to learn of people outside of the tribes. As for being called a witch-child, you are not. You have magic, a much sought after talent. And need training.”

She looked back out across the grasslands, her mind in turmoil, trying to come to terms with what he had just told her. He let her think and for that she was grateful. Eventually she asked “Where can I train? I need to control it.”

“Not here. Not in Azam. You’ll need to travel far, across the sea. To Dharesh or Nerily, in Neriadeem. I think the latter. It is said that the Nereem are good magic users, the best. Apart from the Thareem and the Ancients, of course. But no one has seen any of them for decades. So I suggest you go to Nerily.”

Sharli weighed his words carefully before asking “How do I get there? I have no money, no way to eat let alone pay to get to this Nerily!”

“I’ll take you,” he said softly.

She gasped. “Why? Why would you do this for me? You’re a stranger, not tribe.”

Before he could answer, however, Captain Haldor strode over.

“You’re looking better. Aldernon tells me you were lucky. He’s convinced me to let you ride my boat for free, too. At least, until we reach the next town. Normally I throw stowaways overboard.”

“Stowaways? Is that what I am?”

Aldernon laughed. “Don’t let him fool you. And yes, anyone found on board a boat without permission of the captain is called a stowaway. Although, technically, I’m not sure that applies to those who leap on board in full view of everyone!”

The Captain harrumphed. “Don’t count on your charm working all the time, Aldernon. She’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, bad leg or no, when we reach Asheff.”

“She’s in no fit state,” declared Aldernon.

“Asheff is where she leaves,” the Captain answered and strode away.

Aldernon glowered at the Captain’s back but left it, turning to Sharli and insisting that it was time for her to rest again, whilst she could. Perhaps, like her, he could tell that the Captain was a man who wouldn’t go back on his word. She’d be leaving the boat in the morning, even if she couldn’t walk on her own.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Aldernon stared down at the young woman sleeping in the hammock. Her long black hair twisted in the nape of her neck whilst her dark hands curled around the rough-spun blanket. She was beautiful but probably didn’t realise the fact. She also held a rare gift that was almost lost, forgotten by many. He suddenly knew what he must do. Alone, she was too naïve, too ignorant of the ways outside her village, to survive. Sooner or later her talent would get her killed. Unless she was trained to control her powers.

He strode along the passage and up onto the deck, making his way to the wheel and the Captain. Haldor had become his friend since he’d arrived in Azam. Without him Aldernon would have probably never seen Yrholm or the many other places along the River Yra. The man had been more than happy to have a herbalist and doctor aboard his boat in return for free passage. But now Aldernon wasn’t so sure that Haldor would continue to be a friend.

“You can’t do this!” he declared as soon as he reached the Captain’s side. “You and I both know she won’t survive. A tribal woman like her will be eaten alive once she leaves this boat.”

Haldor shrugged. “So? She has nothing to give me, nothing worth my keeping her on board, using up space. I can take on paying passengers in Asheff.”
“If it’s only money you want, then I can pay for her passage!” stormed Aldernon.

“What with? We both know that you have little enough coin for your own needs. You can’t pay for her. No, she leaves at Asheff.”

“Then I leave with her. And demand the coins you owe me for my service to the crew since I boarded.”

Haldor raised his bushy eyebrows as he stared at Aldernon. “You’d be prepared to leave the boat? For her?” His brow furrowed. “Why? You haven’t fallen in love with her, have you?” The Captain laughed. “Why, I do believe you have!”

Aldernon shrugged. “Possibly. She is beautiful.”

“I’ll give you that. But still a savage.”

“Ignorant of the world outside her village, yes. Savage, no. You underestimate them, friend,” growled Aldernon. “You and the rest of the Azeem. Write them off at your peril, is all I say. I leave with her. At Asheff or where ever you decide to put her ashore. And I expect the wages due me.”

“As you will,” Haldor answered. “Though little is owed you. Passage and food was the bargain.”

“And coins to cover the costs of medications, and healing half of your crew from the silver pox. You owe me much, Haldor.”

“I will think on it. Thall, take over, I’m going to get some sleep.”
“Aye, Captain,” answered the first mate as Haldor turned and headed below decks, leaving Aldernon to wander over to the rails and ponder on the direction his life had taken.

Was he in love with Sharli? He didn’t think so. But he did feel protective toward her. She was so innocent, so fresh and untainted. Also her talent for magic was enormous. He knew that it was her power that attracted him. People with such talents were rare now. Although he doubted that they ever had been common but according to the histories that he had studied there had definitely been more magic users in the past. Why had they disappeared? It was a question no one seemed to be able to answer. Perhaps because magic was so unusual that the people who wielded it were accused of witchery, as Sharli had been. If Haldor knew of her skills, what would he do with her? As much as their friendship had grown since Aldernon had come on board, the Captain wasn’t a kind-hearted soul. No, he was hard, out for money and profit. It was why he was a successful boat-man. And it was why Aldernon was now determined to leave the boat with Sharli before Haldor realised what she was.

He stared out into the dark, glancing up at the stars and the sliver of moon. Even knowing some of the constellations he found them mysterious and haunting. They glistened like the water of the river. The River Yra, shining river in the old tongue. Not that it shone much today apart from when the sun glistened on its surface. He wondered if it had ever been any different. If the world had once been a different place to what it was now.

Such philosophical questions however were beyond him. What mattered to him now was to see Sharli safe to Nerily, to the magic school, where she would be cared for and nurtured. It was a worthy quest, he decided. Something that he had been searching for most of his life. The Fates had led him here, he believed, and he would do his best not to let them down.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Asheff was a miserable town. As he carried Sharli down the gangplank he decided that they would leave as quickly as possible. He’d managed to get Haldor to part with  enough coins to buy them a cheap wagon and mule, hopefully some provisions too. Orli, ever grateful to Aldernon for saving his life from the pox, had secretly handed him some biscuits, dried meats and cheese that would help them on their journey toward the coast. Although Aldernon hoped they would find the boat they needed at Zadhya on Lake Yra rather than have to head all the way to Zhadwhalya.

He gently placed Sharli back on the ground when they stepped off the gangplank. She winced slightly and he quickly put his arm around her to ease the pressure on her ankle.

“We need to get you some crutches or a walking cane,” he told her.

“May help,” Sharli agreed. “So, where do we go from here? Is there a place to stay?”

“The tavern has rooms, I think,” Aldernon replied. “But hopefully we’ll be out of here before darkfall. This isn’t the type of place to stay in for long.”
“Why not?”

“Rough types here. Beast herders, bandits, thieves, people with few or no morals. No, the sooner we can leave, the better.”
“How? Do we wait for another boat?”

Aldernon shook his head. “Few stop here. Haldor is one of them. It could be days before another boat heading downstream docks. Even longer before we find one prepared to take us on board. He’ll get his passenger, though,” he nodded toward a well-dressed man striding toward the gangplank. “Always one or two eager to leave. Come on, let’s get going.”

Progress was slow as he helped Sharli hobble through the press of traders and herders that thronged the docks. Some were eager to sell their merchandise to Haldor; others would want to buy. It wouldn’t take long for the captain to empty his hold of goods purchased in Yrholm; even quicker to fill them again.

Remembering the layout from earlier visits, Aldernon soon located a promising stables where he haggled for the only wagon and mule on offer. Eventually he struck a deal and lifted Sharli up onto the seat, warning her to be careful of splinters, before he clambered up beside her. It wasn’t the best wagon he’d ever seen but it would have to do. The first time he flicked the reins the mule shook his head, as if in annoyance. But after a second flick and a shout of encouragement the animal decided to move. The wagon creaked and slowly they moved down the crowded main street.

It was busy with skin traders and herders selling jitha beasts. Cumbersome animals, they were nevertheless prized for their thick skins and meat. On the grasslands they wandered wild but around here many had been partially tamed. Sharli stared at them in astonishment and not a little fear, especially when several lumbered in the direction of the wagon. Aldernon veered, avoiding them, as two herders on horse-back rode around the beasts, desperate to control the animals. Stampeding beasts were not unknown, even in the town itself. He had witnessed it himself, on his last visit to the town, narrowly escaping being tossed in the air by jumping onto one of the raised walkways that fronted most buildings. The damage the jitha caused was enormous, some of it still in evidence. Broken rails, doors and shutters hanging off hinges were common. The noise and stench was also unpleasant, even to him. A glance toward Sharli told him that she was even more upset by it and he flicked the reins again, keen to get out of the bustle as quickly as possible.

Luckily the mule seemed eager to escape the town as well and responded. Soon they reached the edge of Asheff and Aldernon halted at a small store, ignoring the inquisitive looks on the faces of those outside. Having a pale skin in this country wasn’t too much of a problem when in the larger towns and ports but in a place like Asheff, where few outsiders strayed, it often caused people to stare. He strode into the store and chose what he needed quickly, paying a storekeeper who didn’t object to taking money from anyone. Not always the case – in Yrholm there had been one market trader who had refused to have anything to do with him. Relieved that this time there would be no problems he left the store with his new provisions and tools. They weren’t much but it was all he could afford. After that they headed down the river road and by early afternoon they were out of town.

Sharli sighed. “Thank Eshuanti,” she murmured, clutching a small statuette to her breast. “I thought we’d never get away!”

“You believe in your goddess?” asked Aldernon.

“Of course!” exclaimed Sharli. “She’s helped me so far, I’m sure of it. Do you worship her too?”

He shrugged. “No. Although where I come from, we don’t have Eshuanti. In the Danveshi Empire there’s the god of warriors, fire and storm; and a goddess of earth and fertility. I don’t care for either of them. My belief is in the Fates, the Ancient Seers as some call them.”

“How can there be different gods? Eshuanti is goddess of earth, water and women. Surely She is everywhere?”

“Perhaps she is,” answered Aldernon. “Maybe they are all the same, but known by different names.”

“Of course,” sighed Sharli. “That would be it. I’m sure you’re right.”

She tucked the carving beneath her belt and they rode in silence for a while. The dirt road roughly followed the river, veering away occasionally to avoid copses of lurriba and thorn-spike trees. To the left of the road there were farmsteads with fields of the sweet spice safri and orchards of flameberry and prickly pear bushes. Occasionally small herds of jitha beasts could be seen grazing in fenced fields, although they were further away. Beyond them were the grasslands, mile upon mile of tall grasses, lands uninhabited by all but nomads and bandits.

Soon even the farmsteads disappeared and the grasslands reached the riverbank, only a few shrubs breaking the monotonous landscape. Sharli looked around anxiously, concern etching her features.

“What’s wrong?” Aldernon asked.

“It’s too… open,” she answered. “Where are the trees? It’s been a while since I saw any!”

Aldernon couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Sorry! This is the grasslands. Just grass and a few shrubs, nothing more. See over there?” He pointed to distant shapes moving slowly through the grass. “They are weldia, the creatures you spotted last night. Graceful animals, although their horns can be deadly. Hunted by greycats and other predators that roam these parts. As for trees, I’m afraid we won’t see many now until we reach the lake, and that is at least three days ride from here.”
“Three days?”

“Possibly four. I’ve never ridden this road before. I always travelled by boat.”

She nodded. “Are there more towns like Asheff?”

“Two or three small settlements on this side of the river. The next town as such is Lovan. We’ll have to cross the river there, by ferry, as there’s no road this side. Hopefully it won’t cost too much.”

“You don’t have much coin, do you?” queried Sharli.

“No,” he admitted.

“I have some, if we need them.”

Aldernon was surprised. “How did you get coins?”

“We sell our carvings and cloth at the market sometimes. Not everyone is happy to barter with goods. And the coins can be useful.” She shifted her leg as she spoke.

“Is it painful?” Aldernon asked.

“At times,” she answered. “Itching a bit, too. Can we stop soon? The bumping of this wagon is making me feel sore!”

“Next place we find that has a bit of shelter, I’ll stop. I think our mule wants a rest too,” Aldernon declared as the animal hee-hawed and shook his head as if in protest at having to work so hard.

“He’s nice,” Sharli answered. “Doesn’t he have a name?”

“None that I know of.”

“I’ll ask him when we stop.”
“Ask him?”

“Of course!!! All creatures know their names. You just have to open up to them. Speak to them. Although I’ve never tried asking a mule before…”

He set up camp in a hollow off the road that was surrounded by shrubs. It wasn’t much but it would provide some shelter and hopefully hide them from predators, both human and animal. Once he’d removed the harness and let the mule drink, Sharli approached the creature, stroking his neck and whispering into his ear. Amused, Aldernon watched as she looked the mule in the eyes, ruffling his short mane and rubbing his chin. All the time, she spoke to him, softly. Finally she smiled and hobbled toward the wagon, lowering herself to the ground and stretching out her legs.

“So? He has a name?”

“Eynab,” she answered. The mule hee-hawed gently and Aldernon couldn’t be sure that he didn’t smile in response, the lips revealing yellowing teeth for a few seconds. “Oh, and he’s hungry. And needs a rest.”

“Well, there’s plenty of grass he can eat,” muttered Aldernon, unbelieving. Yet Sharli seemed serious. “Eynab,” he said, surprised when the mule gave him an inquisitive look. “Right, then, help yourself to the grass then rest. I’ll get a fire going!”

The fire made, Aldernon handed out some food and water. There would be no fresh meat unless he went hunting but he didn’t want to risk leaving Sharli alone. So they ate some of the dried meat, bread and fruit that he’d bought earlier. As always in Azam, darkness came suddenly. He missed the long evenings and twilight of his home in Danvesh. A twinge of homesickness washed over him but he pushed it away. No point in dwelling on such things. Danvesh was denied him. And Azam had proved to be a reasonable choice for his adventures.

The meal finished he prepared a new poultice for Sharli’s ankle. She watched him with interest.

“What are those leaves?” she asked.

“They’re from the firebush, almost my last ones. I’ll have to try and purchase more when we reach the coast.”

“You could try attya leaves. If what you want is something to ease pain or stem blood. There are some by the river – I can show you in the morning.”

“They sound as if they might work. Do you have knowledge of other medicinal plants? I thought only your wise women knew those things?”

“All of us know about attya leaves. We gather herbs as well as fruits and nuts for the tribe, and attya are common enough. When foraging in the jungle it is not uncommon to get stung or cut by thorns, and we use the attya to help ease the pain. But yes, it is the wise woman only who knows the herbs and seeds for treating most illnesses. Only Aldhira would gather what she needed in secret.”

“You said her name with some bitterness,” he remarked. “You disliked her?”

“She watched me. She told of my sister’s witchery and had her burned,” Sharli almost spat out the words. “I loathed her.”

“Your sister? She had magic too?”

“If that is what we have, yes. Orisha was my mother’s first-born, many years older than me. I watched as she burned for the so-called crime of trying to heal our diria of a broken leg. Only wise women should have that power. Aldhira hated her. As she hated me.” Her dark brown eyes filled with tears that she brushed away. Anger, hate and sorrow all seemed to momentarily flit across her face before she turned away, staring into the darkness.

“I’m sorry.”

Sharli shrugged. “It is history.”
“Yet this wise woman, she didn’t stop you from leaving?”

“No. I think she wanted it. Wanted me to run, to prove my guilt, to die at the hands of the men or in the town. Aldhira told them, after I left. I am sure. Why else would they know to chase me? I had just been standing there when the hut caught fire. No. I was a threat to her, like Orisha had been. And my aunt before her.”

“Your aunt? She was a magic user too?”

“Yes, so they say. I never knew her. My father’s sister. They never spoke of her, as they never spoke of Orisha. But my mother told me. Often. As a threat I think. To let me know what would happen if I ever became like them.”

Aldernon let the silence that followed continue as he stirred the poultice. There had been three of them. Three in one family. If not more. He had heard it said before that magic was inherited. As in the Thrazheem. How many more magic users were there in the jungles? How many burned or killed because of what they were? He dreaded to think.

They slept that night in the wagon, safe from the snakes and scorpions. The poultice needed time to brew and so it was morning before he gently unwrapped the bandage around Sharli’s ankle and cleaned away the old poultice. She never winced. Not once. He felt her ankle carefully, his own slight magic delving beneath the skin and into the bone. To his surprise it was virtually healed. He let his senses roam deeper, looking for any sign of damage. There was none. Her own magic had been working within her and there was no need for him to apply any more of his poultice so he stored it away as she looked at him in surprise.

“It’s not as bad as I first thought,” he lied. “Seems the poultice isn’t needed. Just keep the splint on for two or three more days, and you’ll be fine.”

CHAPTER NINE

Sharli looked down from the wagon at the ferry in some consternation. Despite Aldernon’s reassurances that it would easily hold the wagon, mule, them and the other passengers, she wasn’t convinced. Flat-bottomed with only rails to stop people falling into the water and with ropes either side to haul it across the river, it didn’t look that strong. She had given him a few of her coins to pay for the crossing, something that Aldernon seemed grateful for. To her, such coins had been of little value. Until now. Already on this journey Sharli’s perceptions had altered considerably, her knowledge of this country growing daily. She clambered down from the wagon as they halted in the middle of the ferry, not wanting to be thrown off into the water when the ferry was half way across. Aldernon chuckled, joining her as the ferry set off, two muscular men pulling on the ropes that were attached to what he called pulleys on each bank.

Her hands clung tightly to the wagon, not letting go until they finally reached the other bank. “Told you it was safe,” smiled Aldernon. She huffed and climbed back onto the wagon, as did he. They let the other passengers go ashore first before Aldernon flicked the reins and Eynab trotted off the ferry and up the ramp to the street. The town of Lovan spilled over onto both sides of the river but there were far more buildings on this bank. Wood and stone houses and stores lined the street as they headed out of town. Aldernon seemed reluctant to stop here and in some ways she was grateful. It was only noon and too early to break their journey. Yet she wondered why he didn’t bother to enquire if there were any river boats heading to the lake that he considered to be their destination.

As if reading her thoughts he said “It should only take us another day to get to Zadhya by road. Not worth paying for passage on a river boat. Once we reach the lake town we can find a boat going to Nerily. If we’re lucky we won’t have to wait long to find one.”

“You said we should have been at the lake about three days ago,” she commented.

He shrugged, grinning. “So, I was wrong. Takes longer to travel by wagon than I’d realised.”

“So it will be another two days from here, then.”

Aldernon sighed as if mortally wounded. “You of so little faith! Tomorrow, we’ll be there.”

“I’ll not hope too much,” Sharli answered, smiling.

During the journey she had come to like this pale man with his long brown hair, sparkling grey eyes and gentle spirit. Much of the time they travelled in silence but when they did talk, she enjoyed the conversations that they had. He knew now of the things that she had done with her magic and she had told him about the village and the ways of the Jha’hazee, the name for her people. In turn he had explained much about the culture of the Azeem outside of the jungle lands and some about his home lands. She had been grateful for that. Sharli felt more confident about a lot of things. But she missed the trees and her people and the way of life that she had known. All of this – the town and the bustle and the noise and smells – whilst no longer strange to her, still filled her with awe and concern.

Lovan was bigger than Yrholm or Asheff. There were more people, several pale-skinned men like Aldernon, others with a colour that she thought of as nut-brown. Not as dark as the Azeem. Their clothes were strange too, long flowing robes of numerous colours. She asked Aldernon who they were.

“Probably Zhoreshee or maybe even Ho’adeem. From the lands east across the Nerian Sea and beyond.”

Sharli thanked him, although what he said made little sense to her. He spoke often of the sea. It was an unknown, this huge stretch of what he told her was salty water. All she did know was that to reach the Nerily he spoke of, they would have to travel across this sea to the group of islands that made up the lands of Nerianeem. It was one of many mysteries that she thought of with part fear and part curiosity.

They were crossing a small square when she spotted a temple. Larger than the one in Yrholm, with bigger doors and pillars outside, it was nonetheless unmistakeable. Gold and blue flags hung down from the roof and prayer flags fluttered from between the pillars.

“Stop, please!!!”

Aldernon looked at her, drawing on the reins, bringing the wagon to a halt. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“No. I just want to visit the temple, is all.” And without waiting for his reply she clambered down and strode across the paved stones to the temple. Her splint had been discarded the previous day and it felt good to be walking properly again. She wanted to thank the goddess properly, within a temple dedicated to her.

The incense stung her eyes as she entered and she lowered her head in respect to the central kneeling statue of Eshuanti. It was larger than the one in Yrholm, the carving more ornate, the robe adorning her exquisite with gold embroidery on a deep blue material glistening in the sunlight that streamed through high windows. Sharli knelt and prayed, wishing that she had something to offer. Normally she would proffer fruit and flowers but she had neither. Instead she laid a few of her coins on the low altar and lit incense, giving her thanks for her healed ankle and for her safe journey so far.

As she left one of the priestesses stepped forward, pressing a circular token into her hand. “May the blessings of Eshuanti be with you,” she murmured.

“And with you,” replied Sharli, pleased. It was a sign that her gift had been accepted and recognised as worthy; the token to be worn on her belt as a blessing. She tied it in place next to others that already hung from her belt then turned and prayed once more to the goddess before heading back outside.

The sunlight momentarily blinded her as she stepped back out into the square. For a moment she couldn’t see the wagon but when she did she gasped. Eynab appeared to be agitated, hawing loudly, and Aldernon? He was standing by the side of the wagon, a short sword in his hand. She hadn’t even realised he had one but now he was brandishing it in front of him, a group of men partially encircling him and the wagon. Sharli rushed forward, trying to work out what was happening, Why had they picked on him? Surely not because of his skin colour. There were others here of his kind, she had seen them. And then she noticed that three of the men by the wagon were also white. She stopped, near enough to hear what was being said, far enough away to use her witchery if necessary.

“So Aldernon, you treacherous scum, what have you to say for yourself, eh?” hissed one man, the largest and ugliest of the group. His green deep-set eyes were askew, a long scar cutting across one of them and down his cheek. “Leaving us for dead?”

Aldernon glanced first one way then the other, obviously trying to assess his chances. “I thought you were dead, Luan.”

“Aye, I bet you did. Ran with our money though, eh? Left us to rot!” Luan spat at Aldernon and the others jeered. “Well now, I guess it’s time you paid us back!”

“I don’t have any money!” Aldernon declared, sweat on his brow as Luan howled with laughter and looked at his companions.

“Why now, and why ain’t that a surprise? Shame. We’ll have to kill you for it, then, won’t we, take you home with us and claim the reward..”

They rushed forward. Not stopping to see if Aldernon could fight Sharli took action. Eynab reared, dust swirled and she rushed forward, grabbing Aldernon by the arm as his attackers, temporarily blinded by the dust, staggered backwards. Dragging Aldernon into the crowd that had gathered she shouted to the mule. He seemed to understand and turned the wagon so that it blocked the men’s path and Sharli led a bewildered Aldernon toward the temple.

“Put away the sword,” she told him. “They won’t give sanctuary if you have a weapon drawn!”

“I have no scabbard!” he replied.

“Well at least put it through your belt then,” Sharli answered as the hue and cry behind them grew. The men had obviously got around the wagon, heading towards them. With only moments to spare Sharli and Aldernon reached the temple doors and ran through, Sharli immediately shouting “We seek sanctuary!”

Although startled the priestess who had handed her the token took in the scene quickly and signalled for her to follow whilst another priestess slammed the door shut. For now, they were safe. But Sharli wasn’t sure they would stay that way.

CHAPTER TEN

They sat in a quiet room off the temple’s inner courtyard, the priestess having ushered them in before leaving to fetch the High Priestess. They had sat in silence, neither of them wishing to be the first to speak. Sharli glowered at Aldernon whilst he fidgeted or paced the room, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, his face etched in misery. Eventually Sharli could stand the strain no longer and blurted out “I’m not sure I want to know. But it sounds bad.”

Aldernon didn’t respond; he looked shocked and stunned, his eyes distant. Sharli tried again.

“You have to tell me,” she said. “The priestess will need to know why we seek sanctuary. And so do I. I told you all of my wrong doings. I think it only fair you tell me yours.”

“It’s complex,” he muttered.

“Probably,” she answered. “But…”

The door answered and the High Priestess entered. She was a tall woman, elderly yet obviously still in good health, despite the grey hairs that rippled through her otherwise dark curls. Almost black eyes looked from one to the other, seemingly sizing them up in moments.

“So, you seek sanctuary and throw my well ordered peaceful temple into chaos,” she said as she drew up a chair and sat opposite them. “You’d better be worth it. You, tell me why you dragged him in here?”

Sharli bowed her head in reverence. “I apologise, Most High. My friend here was in mortal danger. I feared for his life. I could think of no other way to save him, not in the time that we had.”

“Hmph,” replied the High Priestess. “You, at least, I am happy to have in our midst.” Her eyes strayed to the tokens that hung from Sharli’s belt. “But him… I bet he’s not even a believer. Am I right, man?”

“That’s true,” Aldernon answered. Sharli was relieved that he was honest in that at least. “My belief is in the Fates. Whom I believe have led me here.”

“The Fates, eh? Well, at least you have some faith. Though the Fates are not well known in these parts. But I have read of them. Why were you threatened?”

Aldernon sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“We have time. If you are to be granted sanctuary and our help, we must know the truth of it. Even if judged guilty by our laws we may still be able to help. So?”

Glancing from Sharli to the priestess, Aldernon nodded slowly. “It started back in my homeland, Danvesh. I was never accepted in my own society. I was a herbalist and a wanderer, not owning property or wanting to. To the Empire such lack of desire to settle seems to anger them. I was classed as a Wilder, an undesirable.” He paused, obviously finding the story difficult to tell. The High Priestess eventually urged him to continue and reluctantly, he did so.

“For a while I took to travelling with a group of like-minded men although I quickly realised that their aims were not to aid others and live a peaceful life but to thieve. It took me time to appreciate that.” Aldernon almost looked shamed, fidgeting with his fringed sleeve and frequently glancing at the floor. “I’d fallen in with them when one of them had been wounded and I’d stopped to offer my services. They accepted and asked me join them.” He shrugged briefly, looking up at the priestess. “Biggest mistake I ever made. Turned out they were bandits. I tried to leave but they always tracked me down. One night they forced me on a raid with them. We were met by some of the Hildetha, the Imperial law enforcers. Somehow I managed to escape, but not before I was seen. Not knowing what else to do I fled the country.”

“I see,” remarked the priestess. “And the men in the square – they are some of those bandits?”

“Yes. They accuse of me leaving them for dead.”

“Which you did. Although with reason,” nodded the priestess solemnly. Her black eyes stared at Aldernon for several minutes. Sharli had seen priestesses do that before, as if they were searching the mind, trying to determine if someone was a liar. She was pleased that Aldernon didn’t flinch from her gaze, even if he did look uncomfortable. Eventually the High Priestess seemed satisfied, nodding. “You tell the truth of it, as how you see it. All men make mistakes and wrongly go with people it would be best to avoid at times. There is no shame in that. I imagine you were young at the time?”

Aldernon nodded. “Young enough not to know how to tell bandits and thieves from Wilders of better morals.”

“And you,” the priestess turned to Sharli. “How is it you are with him? You seem odd travelling companions.”

“He healed me of a broken ankle after I leapt onto a river boat in order to escape from a brothel and the men of my tribe,” she answered. “When the Captain ordered me off the boat at Asheff, Aldernon came with me. As protector.”

The priestess’s brow furrowed as she looked from one to another. “I sense more here, but I will not pursue it. You have my leave to stay, until dark. Then we will escort you to beyond the town, away from your attackers. They have been a nuisance, have sought out the militia who are already pestering me to turn you both over.”
“What of our wagon and Eynab?” asked Sharli.

“Eynab?”

“Our mule, High Priestess.”

Shaking her head, the priestess answered “I’m sorry, I know nothing of either. Although I believe they may have been taken by your pursuers or the militia for neither one is in the square now.”

Sharli sighed deeply. “Then, Most High, we have nothing. All our provisions and possessions were in that wagon. And I fear for Eynab. He was a good mule, obedient and gentle. He aided in our escape. Without them, I do not know how we can leave.”

“I will enquire after them. It is all I can do. But tonight you still have to leave. I am sorry, but we can not keep the temple doors closed any longer. Denying access to other worshippers goes against all we stand for. You know that, child.”

“I do. And thank you. With the blessings of Eshuanti, we will find a way.”

The priestess nodded, rose and left, leaving Sharli heavy-hearted and worried about the journey ahead.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Aldernon cursed inwardly. Sharli had refused to try and persuade the priestess to let them stay longer.

“They have already given us protection, a meal and now they are making sure we can escape your pursuers. And you want more? You? A non-believer. No. It is not right to ask any more of them. We will leave when they tell us to, and be thankful.”

And there it was. Be thankful. For being alive and getting out of town when they could easily be dead or incarcerated in a stinking prison. He knew she was right but he still fumed and cursed to himself as they followed the young priestess down some steps and along a dark corridor beneath the temple.

If Sharli hadn’t insisted on coming here to pray then none of this would have happened. He wouldn’t have been spotted, sitting on the wagon in full view of everyone. Luan would have remained ignorant of his presence and they would have got safely away from Azam.

He knew he was being unfair but he couldn’t help it. The Fates help him, he had nothing against Sharli or her goddess, nor the priestesses who had taken them in. But it still rankled with him and he stormed down the passage almost oblivious to the two women with him. It took a moment for it to register that they had stopped by a large wooden door; longer to realise that the priestess was telling Sharli that she was taking them into a secret area.

“You both need to be blindfolded,” she was saying. Sharli agreed immediately.

“How do we know this is not a trap?” he murmured.

Sharli looked aghast. “Because this is a temple. She’s a priestess, she would never do such a thing!!”

“If you prefer we could let you out of the front door,” the priestess declared. “I think those bandits are still sitting doggedly in the square awaiting your release.”

Aldernon gave in, letting the priestess blindfold him. He held Sharli’s hand as instructed, still wary of traps, his other hand resting on the pommel of his sword. The door grated open and they walked slowly, through into what he thought was a large room.

Sense of direction soon left him, however, for the priestess seemed to be walking them in circles. It seemed that they entered a maze of passageways or interconnecting rooms; sometimes he felt a wall nearby, at other times he was sure there was just empty space all around him. He was beginning to feel that there was no end when they halted; there was the grinding of stone and fresh air touched his face as they began to walk up an incline. A few moments later and they had obviously emerged into the open although it was a while before they stopped and the priestess told them they could remove their blindfolds.

They stood in shrubs close to the river bank, only stars and the slightest sliver of moon to light the sky. Aldernon could barely see any better than when he had been blindfolded but Sharli seemed to be scanning the area as the priestess said “This is where I leave you. Your wagon and mule will become our property, to pay for our services…” Aldernon was about to protest but Sharli put her hand on his arm, squeezing hard, and so he let the priestess continue. “And for the provisions in the boat,” the woman waved toward the bank “should be enough for one day. You are to land it at the watermill north of Zadhya, near where the river joins the lake. The miller will return it to us. The blessings of Eshuanti be with you.”

Sharli bowed her head and the priestess retreated as Sharli walked to the bank, muttering a prayer of thanks.

“They have been good to us,” she remarked.

“Daylight robbery, is what I call it!” growled Aldernon. “That wagon and mule were worth far more than the loan of a boat and a few meagre provisions.”

“They gave us sanctuary, and you’re a non-believer. And a way of escape from those bandits who attacked us. Is that not worth the price?”

Even in the darkness Aldernon could see Sharli’s eyes glisten angrily. He shrugged. “Perhaps,” he conceded sulkily. “But if you hadn’t gone into that temple in the first place none of this would have happened.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault is it? Is that what’s angering you? That I had the cheek to leave you for a few minutes to pray to my goddess and thank her for our good fortune?”

“Yes, well, it didn’t prove good fortune to leave me did it?”
“And whose fault was that? Not mine! What if we’d come across those old friends of yours on the road, eh? What then? Would you have fought them off?”

Aldernon shrugged. “We might have outrun them…”

Sharli shook her head in disbelief. “A mule and wagon outrun men on horseback… I hardly think so. Are you any good with that sword of yours?”

“Well, I can defend myself.”

“Against three men with longer swords than yours? I can’t see it.”

“You could have used your magic.”

“My magic. Perhaps. But not to kill. Never to kill. Bad enough that I have little control of it.”

“You used it in the square…”

“No. That’s where you’re wrong,” Sharli said vehemently.

Aldernon stared at her. “The dust…”

“Caused by the mule when he reared and stamped his legs on the ground.”

Frowning Aldernon tried to recall the scene. “He blocked the bandits. Didn’t you tell him to do that using magic?”

Sharli shook her head. “Not magic. I just asked him to.”
“You asked a mule? Mules don’t do what people ask them to! They can’t understand us!”

“You’ve never spoken to animals? Never asked a horse to stay or go or stop?”

“That’s different! They’ve been trained to listen to commands, to understand to obey the voice and reins. Far more to do with the flick of reins than the speech!”

Sharli shrugged. “If you say so. Anyway, can you row? I can’t. And we need to get going before those bandit friends of yours realise we’re no longer in the temple.”

“They aren’t friends. I thought you realised that,” grumbled Aldernon. “And yes, I can row. A bit.”

“Then let’s get into that boat.”

“I thought you rowed those dugouts of yours?” he asked as they clambered into the small rowing boat.

“We paddle them. Never used oars like these,” said Sharli. “You row, I’ll tell you where to go, if need be. At least the river here is calm. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

“As you say. Untie the rope, will you?”

Sharli obliged and Aldernon, still feeling grumpy, pushed off from the bank and began to row.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The silence of the water lapping against the bank and the swishing of the oars, accompanied by the occasional hoot of night-birds, calmed Sharli as they made their way slowly down river. She had no fear of alligators here as she hadn’t seen any since the day before they reached Lovan. The river was much broader than further upriver, several large boats plied the water and it seemed much deeper too. She may be mistaken, but she guessed there was less prey here for she’d seem no wild herds of diria or weldia or jitha beasts either. Certainly none came to drink from the river. Here there were farms on either side of the river: a few farm buildings and fenced fields instead of jungle or wild grass lands.

The land had been tamed, not necessarily for the good of the earth, thought Sharli. It seemed strained, uneasy. Perhaps it was just because she was unused to what Aldernon called cultivation that she felt that way. In his country it seemed that there were far more farms and settlements than in Azam.

She watched him rowing, the muscles on his arms bulging as he strained to keep the boat on a straight course. The current was helping them but there were also eddies that would take the boat off course if he let them. His brow was coated in sweat, his expression still sullen. Sharli considered his revelations in the temple. A Wilder, he had said. An outsider. She knew what the latter was like. Ever since leaving her village she’d felt like a stranger in her own country and now knew that the Jha’hazee were looked down upon and seen as more savage than she had thought. Even though she had known that people in Yrholm regarded them as such, it hadn’t really sunk in that it was a widely accepted concept.

Her hand brushed against the new soft wool trousers that she now wore, another gift from the priestesses. Along with the cotton tunic. The rough garment that she had worn since stealing it back in Yrholm had become dirty and shabby. It looked out of place here, this far from her homelands. The priestess had declared that she would need new clothes in the cities beyond Lovan if she were not to stand out. Sharli had been grateful for the advice and accepted the clothes with thanks, offering her the few coins that she had left. The priestess had refused.

“It is our duty to aid women in need,” she had told her. “We serve the goddess. Your old tunic can be put to use once it is washed and cleaned. Here in Lovan it is not that out of place, certainly not amongst the poorest.”

Instead Sharli had taken time to pray to the goddess as they waited for their departure. Eshuanti was worthy of her prayers. She still found it difficult to accept that there were people who didn’t worship any gods or that there were, indeed, other gods elsewhere. The Fates that Aldernon spoke of seemed more like an ancient race of people than gods although she knew little of them. He refused to explain who they were. Perhaps one day she would learn more about his beliefs but for now was content to let the river take them to nearer to their destination.

Aldernon called a break an hour or so before dawn. Sharli didn’t protest, seeing how much effort was needed by him to keep them on course. They beached the boat on a muddy bank, pulling it further up onto grass before Aldernon sank onto the ground. Sharli rummaged through the provisions, handing him chunks of bread and cheese before filling up a gourd with water. He accepted it gratefully enough. His hands were blistered and she felt a little guilty.

“Of course, I hadn’t thought. Your bag of herbs was in the wagon, wasn’t it? I’d hoped the priestesses would have thought to check what was there.”

“Along with the scabbard for my short sword, my bag of clothing, all my belongings. Except those I was wearing,” complained Aldernon. “You had nothing in there at all.”

“I know,” Sharli answered. “I’m sorry you lost so much.”

He snorted. “Not the first time I’ve had to start again.”

“Even so, it was a big loss.”

Shrugging Aldernon bit into his bread, obviously not wishing to discuss it further. As soon as he finished eating he lay back on the grass and slept whilst Sharli searched the undergrowth. It didn’t take her too long to find some attya leaves, even here it seemed they were common. Then she stood and watched until the sun began to rise above the horizon. In the distance she could see the road as it snaked north between wooden fences. As carts and people began to appear on it with more regularity she nudged Aldernon awake.

“Time to move, I think. Here, let me bandage your hands with these. To help your blisters,” she explained when he lifted his eyebrows. He held out his hands and let her wrap the attya leaves around them. Almost he seemed less sullen, even grateful.

“The road is getting busy. Will your old friends come after you do you think?”

“No doubt of it,” answered Aldernon. “You’re right, time to move. Perhaps the priestesses did us a favour after all, with the boat. Luan and his mates will keep to the road but even riding fast they shouldn’t catch us. Not yet, anyway. Let’s go. And thank you.”

Sharli smiled. The old Aldernon, the gentle caring man, seemed to be returning. Feeling brighter, she helped him push out the boat and clambered back in, pleased to once again be on the move.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It was late afternoon by the time they’d handed over the rowing boat to the miller and walked the last mile or so to the edge of Zadhya. Sharli had gasped when they looked down upon the town from the hill they had to cross, standing stock still for a while with obvious concern and shock.

“It’s huge!” was all he could get out of her. Aldernon had to point out that the town sprawled, the buildings spread over a wide area. She looked at him disdainfully. “Not the town. The lake.”

“It is fairly big, yes, I agree,” he’d said.

“Fairly big? It goes on for miles. Is the sea that big too?”

Aldernon shook his head. “Lake Yra is tiny in comparison to the sea. If we want to find a boat to Nerily, we’d best head to the docks now, before dark.”

Now they stood by a large warehouse, eyeing the various boats. He looked in vain for one with the square sails and blue and white flag of Neriadeem and decided that they would need to ask if anyone knew of a vessel heading out to Nerily. With Sharli close behind Aldernon started with the nearest, asking the crew of each boat they passed if they were going to Neriadeem. Those who deigned to answer all replied with a negative; neither did they know of any that were. He was beginning to give up when an old man, leaning against some barrels, caught his eye and motioned for them to approach.

“You wanting passage to Nerily, I hear,” the man said. His eyes were pale green, his pale skin had a slightly green tinge to it and his mainly white hair was streaked with wisps of blue and green. The fingers between his hands were slightly webbed although he had no difficulty in holding and tamping his carved pipe as he eyed the pair of them.

“We are,” answered Aldernon as Sharli looked at the man curiously. He turned his head towards her, his white teeth flashing in the sunlight.

“Never seen a Nerian before, I take it?”

Sharli shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

“No offence taken, lass,” he replied. “So why are you wishing to go to Nerily? Not many do.”

“To learn,” said Sharli before Aldernon could stop her. Luckily she didn’t add ‘magic’, perhaps because he’d nudged her in time.

The nerian nodded his head slowly, lighting his pipe and taking several slow puffs, watching the smoke curl up into the air.

“Way I see it,” he said eventually, “is that a healer, with little or no talent to speak of, and a woman with far too much talent, need help. Am I right?”

Sharli gasped but Aldernon narrowed his eyes, asking “Maybe. Maybe we just want to learn about the nerian. You are different to most people.”

“There is that,” said the old man, blowing a smoke ring up into the air above him, watching as it was taken by the breeze from off the lake. Then he leaned forward, prodding Aldernon’s chest with the pipe. “But you already know something about us. As for you, lass,” again he turned and faced her. “You need to learn. And soon. Come, follow me.”

“Where are we going?” Aldernon asked.

“To find you passage to Nerily, that’s where!” huffed the old man, walking far more spritely than Aldernon had expected. He almost had to run to keep up as they wound their way through the crowded docks, Sharli dodging and weaving behind him. They soon left the dock behind, going down steps to the beach that stretched beyond the bustling harbour and past fishing boats that were pulled up onto the sand, their nets drying or being mended by the fishermen. They were almost at the end of the beach before the nerian stopped by a small fishing boat, where two younger nerian sat on the sands skinning fish.

“I have them both,” the old man announced. One of the men looked up, his skin even more green than that of the old man, his feet, uncovered, also webbed. He looked at Aldernon and Sharli and nodded.

“Good. Nice to meet you. We’ll be setting sail after supper. Come, join us,” he indicated that they sit on the sand next to the boat. Aldernon hesitated, confused. It was Sharli who spoke for them both.

“How did you know to expect us?”

“Because Jozia here told us to. It’s why we came,” answered the youngest of the two fishermen. “Never argue with a magic-user and seer, that’s what I say. Name’s Albian, by the way, and this is my brother, Falorn. You?”

“Aldernon and Sharli,” she answered, sitting on the beach as if it was normal to encounter both a magic-user and nerian just when they were needed.

“You look startled, Aldernon,” said Jozia. “Worried. Don’t be. I’ve been studying the Arts for many, many years and my particular field of learning is that of the Seer and the Knowing. I have a crystalline mirror in my study that saw you both. Rare, these days, so rare, to see one of such talents actually seek us out. I had no choice but to come and fetch you. Please, sit, and enjoy the meal – Albian is a fine cook, even if he modestly refuses to accept any compliments.”

Too stunned to say any more or to protest, Aldernon sat. Perhaps the Fates had guided them after all. Now that they had their passage to Nerily he was able to relax although he still felt uneasy. It had been too easy. He watched Jozia as the nerian sat on a crate next to the boat, still smoking his pipe. They were a strange people, with their partially webbed feet and hands. He had met some before. Strong swimmers, it was said that some nerian lived their whole lives beneath the waves, but Aldernon doubted that. However, that they spent a lot of time in water was beyond dispute.

Their boat looked too fragile to cross the lake, yet alone the sea. It was long and slim, unlike the broad-beamed fishing boats that they’d passed to reach the nerian. He was wondering whether he should talk with Sharli when Josia called her over to him, and they wandered further along the beach together. So be it. He unwrapped the leaves bandaging his blistered hands, regarding the damage closely. They were sore but clean and would heal, slowly. He wished that he had his bag of medicines with him, not for the first time that day. Of his lost possessions that was the one he missed most. His life had been spent healing. It was what he knew. What he could do. As Albian started cooking, Aldernon laid back on the sand, enjoying the warmth and luxury of rest. It had been a long night and day, and all he wanted now was some time to recover.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sharli was completely taken back by the appearance of the nerian with their greenish skin and partially webbed fingers and toes. Never had she imagined that such people could exist. It was hard not to stare as Albian filleted and gutted the fish, working swiftly and deftly despite his unusual hands. She was almost mesmerised by the speed at which he worked when the old nerian called her and asked her to walk with him a while. Respectful of his age and his knowledge she rose and joined him as they wandered to the furthest part of the beach away from prying eyes and ears.

“I want to ask,” Josia said “What you think of Aldernon.”

“He has been good to me,” she answered. “Healed my ankle, came with me when the captain of the river boat refused to let me stay on board. He didn’t have to. In fact, I believe it would have been easier for him to have remained with the captain. People with his pale skin seem to be picked on here in Azam. And as we travelled, he cared for me.”

Josia nodded. “He seems to have a healer’s soul. But there is something about him that troubles me. Tell me of the last two or three days of your journey – I sense that something happened?”

And so Sharli told him of the problems in Lovan, of the encounter with the bandits in the square and how they had taken sanctuary within the temple. Josia didn’t interrupt once, and so she continued her tale, finishing with their arrival at Zadhya.

“I think he almost mourns the loss of his herbs and medicines – it seems as if he feels lost without them,” she concluded.

Josia puffed on his pipe, silent for a moment. They’d come to a halt where the sand met rocks that blocked any easy path, a grassy bank tumbling down onto the narrow strip of beach, a few huts huddling together at the edge of the town. Sharli looked out across the lake, still unable to believe that it wasn’t the sea, awed by the sight of so much water. It made the river, even at its broadest, seem insignificance. There were boats sailing across the lake, others were moored out in the bay. Too large, she guessed, to come any closer to shore. They were certainly bigger than any that she’d seen on their travels downstream, with three, even four, masts. There were birds here too that she didn’t recognise. White and grey and black, they swooped in they sky, occasionally diving into the very water to come up with a fish dangling from their purple beaks.

“You know that he has a certain talent?” Josia broke her reverie and she almost jumped at this voice.

“He’s a healer, if that is what you mean,” she answered, looking up into the nerian’s green eyes.

“Using magic to help his healing,” said Josia. “You didn’t realise? It leaves me with a dilemma. His talent is small, and specific. Controlled. Should he come with us to Nerily, to see if he can learn more? Or should we leave him?”

“No, you can not leave him here!!! Luan and the others, they would surely find him. Please, let us take him with us.”
Josia smiled. “Then he comes. Despite his weaknesses we will find a place for this Aldernon. Now, let us eat, and then we set out for Nerily.”

The meal was good, and Sharli ate it all, even the second helpings that Albian gave her unbidden. She realised that it was the first hot meal she’d eaten in days. Once finished Sharli thanked Albian and offered to help with washing dishes but he shook his head. “Such work is not for one with talent,” he said as Josia smiled. Startled, Sharli wondered what lay ahead. Would her whole world change? Stupid question, she thought. It already had.

Aldernon came over to her, his expression drawn. With concern she realised that he was holding his right hand as if it pained him. “The blisters look bad,” she remarked.

He shrugged. “They will mend. I miss my medicines, though. If I had them still, I could cover them in balms and they’d heal much quicker.”

“I know. I’m sorry you were forced to leave your bag behind. But there didn’t seem any other way.”

“What is done, is done. There is no point in worrying over it. I’ll be able to rebuild my stock of herbs and potions, in time. What I wondered, though, is,” he glanced back over his shoulder toward the others and pulled her away from them slightly, his voice barely more than a whisper as he continued “What did Josia say? Am I going with you?”

“Yes, you’re to come.”

His relief was obvious. “Ah good, I was worried, having got you to a safety, that I would no longer be needed.”
“Aldernon, I owe you my life. I would have refused to go had Josia refused to take you with us.”

“Did he?”

“No. He asked about you, saying you have only a little talent, already controlled. But what I told him of you seemed to convince him that they take you too.”

Closing his eyes and sighing Aldernon eventually smiled. His whole body seemed to relax and Sharli took hold of his arm as Josia called them.

“We should be leaving. Sun falls very soon, and we want to be on the water before darkness settles completely.”

Aldernon nodded and together they returned to the fishing boat as the nerian pushed it out into the shallows.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It seemed that nerian also had night vision for they sailed the boat without a pause once the sun disappeared. They had two small lanterns, one on the prow, the other on the stern, but neither really cast much light on the lake itself. From what Sharli could gather the lights were more to warn other boats of their presence than to guide them. The light breeze caught the sails almost as soon as they’d left the bay and Sharli realised that, even with only two nerian as crew, they were experienced enough to manoeuvre the boat with more skill than many of the Azam possessed. With little to do Sharli snuggled down in the stern, Aldernon by her side. He was soon fast asleep but she stayed awake for a while, enjoying the tranquillity of the night and the air brushing her skin as the boat skimmed across the water. Her niggling fear of being out on such a large body of water diminished slightly once she realised that the nerian kept land within sight. At least within her sight. She doubted that Aldernon would have been able to make out the shrubs, farmsteads and occasional small settlements that edged the lake.

Josia sat at the prow of the boat, although whether he was awake or asleep she couldn’t tell. There was so much she wanted to ask him, not least about his Knowing as he termed it and how the talent worked. Would he be her teacher? Or were there others in Nerily? She decided that there must be at least two of three others with the talent there. Why else would someone like Aldernon have heard of the place as somewhere with people of talent if it wasn’t widely known as being special? Her thoughts were full of questions but soon the events of the last few days caught up with her and her eyes closed.

It was daylight when she awoke. For a moment the sun dazzled her, the water seemingly ablaze. The sails were full and it seemed almost as if the boat was flying. But the rise and fall of the water and water splashing on her face and hands soon knocked that idea out of her head. She felt queasy, her stomach unsettled. Groaning, Sharli held her stomach and retched. Hands guided her to the edge of the boat, holding her safe until her stomach had emptied its contents into the water. Shaky and miserable she wiped her mouth, accepting the flask of water that the nerian handed her thankfully and drank.

“Better?” asked Josia.

“I think so,” she answered. “Shaky.”

“You will be, don’t fret. It seems a common problem for non-nerian. Lie back again, you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t feel fine,” Sharli said as Josia sat down next to her. “Where’s Aldernon?”

“Near the prow, he doesn’t seem to be affected by the waves at all. In fact, he’s proving to be quite an adept sailor.”

“Where are we?”

“Ah, now, as to the precise location, that is impossible to tell. But we are on the Nerian Sea, heading for my home. And your future home.”
“Already that far? But the lake is enormous, surely we can’t have sailed that far so quickly!”

Josia laughed. “Not in any normal boat, no. This, though, well, it’s a nerian boat, one that moreover has been spell wrought.”

“Spell wrought? I don’t understand…”

“It has been enthused with the spells of speed by a magic user of some considerable talent. Instead of taking up to two weeks to travel from Azam to Nerily, this boat will take us there in three days. Especially with our crew. Now, how are you feeling?”

“Queasy,” Sharli answered. “And still shaky. But not as bad as when I first woke.”

“Good. You should relax, and sleep again if you can. I’ll stay close to make sure you’re ok.”

“I’m not really sleepy,” she answered, yawning, not believing that she’d be able to go back to sleep just yet. But she did. And slept much longer than she would ever have dreamed possible.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The islands of Neriadeem ranged from tiny rocks or grass hillocks barely showing above the water to large isles covered in grass and small trees with hills and even cliffs. They sailed between them all, Albian and Falorn cutting an expert path between both islands and reefs alike. Sharli watched them work the two square sails and ropes, Aldernon helping to steer, turning the rudder as directed by Farlon. It became obvious that the older brother was the captain of this boat, Albian taking commands from him despite being as adept at sailing as Falorn. Sheltered by the numerous islands the sea here was relatively calm, something Sharli was grateful for. She had woken shortly after passing the first islands of Neriadeem, Josia by her side. He had moved her to the prow of the boat away from ropes and rudder so that she wouldn’t hinder the movements of the nerian as they manoeuvred the boat through the maze. The speed of the vessel seemed to have slowed to that of a normal boat, although the sails were sensitive to every breeze and the brothers made use of every nuance of current.

Numerous other boats plied the waters. There were several fishing boats, small and large, as well as narrow rowing boats, looking not dissimilar to the dugouts of the Jha’hazee, small sailing boats, broad-bottomed boats carrying goods and sea-going trading vessels. Nerian swam in the sea close to the shores of the bigger populated islands, travelling between stilted houses that were built on and close to the beaches and along some rivers. It was a strange place. These people obviously regarded the waterways as their roads and means of transportation far more than did people in Azam. Yes, rivers were plied by trading vessels and fishing boats but here she saw no roads. At least, none that were visible.

It took most of the day to negotiate the route that led them to the largest island. Josia had told her that it was known purely as Nerily, like the city that straddled the River Ner. It was, he told her, the only city in Neriadeem although they were many towns and villages throughout the isles, as she had seen. Nothing prepared her for the city itself. It stretched miles either side of the river estuary as well as in and around the estuary. They lowered both sails and rowed between the buildings and beneath the wooden walkways that linked them. Nerian splashed and swam around the boat as they made their way upstream, some calling out greetings to Albian or Falorn as they passed.

There were floating stores, nerian selling their wares of food, crafted goods, clothing, fabrics and pots from the boats, as well as from more conventional shops standing on the stilts above them. Some of the boat-shops even sold cooked food. They were like moving kitchens with children and adults obviously living on board beneath makeshift cabins. They stopped at one, Albian buying some fish stew in small pots, enough for them all. The stew was not as spicy as the food she was used to but nevertheless it was tasty and Sharli was grateful, having not realised how hungry she was.

As they moved further inland and eventually into the river beyond the estuary the buildings either side increased in size and grandeur. Although all seemed to be constructed with wood many had ornate carvings and some even had pillars supporting porticos. Despite being built on the actual river bank all had stilts to raise them above the land with boats of various sizes and types moored to the individual river-side piers and porches. These were obviously wealthy people, not afraid to show off their riches, with brightly painted doorways and fabrics draping the walls and windows whilst highly decorated woven mats covered the planked walkways that led to the piers.

Sharli began to think that they would never stop as they continued beyond the largest buildings and turned into one of the handmade waterways lined both sides with wooden piles. She had seen many of them earlier and Josia had told her they were canals, linking all the buildings like streets. The canal they took differed from the rest in that there were no houses on either bank. It took them into wooded hills, shrouding the canal in deepening shadow, giving the whole an eerie feel. Despite her love of trees Sharli began to shiver. None of the nerian spoke and she wasn’t about to break the silence. She felt her body tingling, the feeling growing the further down the canal they rowed. It wasn’t unpleasant but she recognised it as magic, and it was as if the whole area lay beneath a magical fog. Glancing back at Aldernon she saw him wince slightly, his arms folded beneath his dark cloak. He seemed uncomfortable and wary. Sharli understood his concerns. The whole place screamed magic at her and was not one she would venture into if alone.

After an hour or so paths appeared on either side and the canal broke into what she could only regard as a rectangular harbour. Several vessels were moored here, small piers and ladders leading to the ground above. They tied up at one and Josia helped her ashore, Aldernon clambering up behind them.

As they stepped off the pier Sharli looked around her, amazed. There were several buildings, some ornately carved houses but also large hall-like structures, their roofs glittering golden in the final rays of sunlight. The biggest hall stood directly facing the canal, several feet in front of her, smaller halls and buildings either side of them, forming a square with the harbour. A fountain glittered in the centre, the water sparkling various colours as it rose and splashed back into a circular stone pool surrounding it. Night seemed to take a little longer to descend than in Azam, the light turning a greyish pink before the sun disappeared completely behind the trees that served as a backdrop to the settlement. For settlement it was although she saw few other people, just a handful of nerian wandering amongst the buildings on either side. The whole complex was completely cut off as far as she could tell, the canal they had come down the only way in or out.

Aldernon scowled. “What sort of place is this? So isolated?”

Josia smiled. “For a reason, Aldernon. For our safety, and that of the nerian. This is Anatha Em Lanie – the Place of Learning. Ancient beyond your imagining, or even of mine. Some say it is also Anatha’oen’ti – the First Place, where people first came to these lands. Whatever the truth of it, nerian and others have always come here to learn of Mi’a, what you term magic, as well as other things such as herbalism and medicine. Here is the last place known where men and women of all races may still come to study the ancient skills, although the Thrazheem have their own schools where they teach their own people their special form of Mi’a. It is an honour and a privilege for all who enter and live here. Let me be the first to welcome you and wish you well in your studies.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Josia led them across the square to the main hall indicating a smaller hall to the right of them as the Hall of Herbal Studies.

“That, Aldernon, is where you will live and learn. I know that you already know much about medicine,” Josia said before Aldernon could interrupt, “but here we can teach you more, especially about how to use your Mi’a to better effect. As for you Sharli, I think for now you will live in the main Hall of Mi’a ahead of us, until such time as your own skills can be evaluated. For tonight, though, you will eat together within the main dining hall and meet the Eda’lanaz – the Learned Ones who will teach you and guide you through your studies. Please, be respectful to them. They dedicate their lives to teaching, although there are few students these days.”

“Why is that?” Sharli asked.

“Mi’a is not as widespread as it once was. We don’t know why. Many fear those who have the talent, as you have found to your cost, Sharli. I suspect a large number of people disappear before we locate them, either killed by their own ignorance or by others who fear them. Now that we know there may be more within your people we will keep a closer eye on the Jha’hazee. But there are few of us skilled to do so. We do what we can.” He stopped outside the large black wooden doors of the Hall of Mi’a, indicating that they should enter. “Here, through these doors and take the open door to the left.”

“You’re not coming with us?” queried Sharli.

“No, I return to my own quarters,” Josia said. “My task is done. But you will both be well cared for and are expected.”

Glancing at Aldernon, Sharli watched as Josia turned and walked away. Aldernon shrugged. “Looks like we have little choice,” he declared and stepped through into the large hall beyond, Sharli following.

The dark polished timber floor shone where pooled by lantern light, the lamps standing atop ornately carved metal stands. Sharli realised that she had seen little metal so far other than that of the mooring rings and posts on the pier they had tied up to. It was obviously not a common material in Nerily. A stairway led up one side of the entrance hall, a carved banister disappearing into the ceiling which was itself covered in carvings of various creatures. The walls were draped with colourful tapestries depicting woodlands, waterways and the sea whilst one door stood to the right, three to the left. Only one, the furthest from the entrance, was open and we dutifully headed toward it.

The large room beyond held three long tables and one shorter one at the far end and at right angles to the other tables. Seven chairs looked down the hall toward the door but none were occupied. A young female nerian that I took to be a servant stood near the doorway and led us to chairs either side of the middle table, and began serving us immediately from a large bowl of soup.

“We are to eat alone?” asked Aldernon.

“Yes, sire. Afterwards, the Eda’lanaz will see you in the Lounging Chamber,” the servant answered. “I will show you where.”

We thanked her, and tucked into the soup and accompanying nut bread. Both were pleasant, as was the roasted duck with green vegetables that followed it, although Sharli would have preferred spicier flavours. Still, it filled her. As they ate, Aldernon and her talked.

“This whole place is strange,” commented Aldernon. “It feels almost deserted yet there are obviously others around.”

“I agree. Fogged in what they term Mi’a, too.”

“Is that what leaves my skin tingling?”

Sharli nodded. “It isn’t unlike when my magic builds, but this is subtler, not threatening. Almost protective. I don’t believe we need to fear it.”

“I’m not so sure,” Aldernon announced. “This place, it isn’t what I expected.”

“You knew of it? Before we arrived?”

“Only that a place where magic was taught existed at Nerily. I think I expected a sort of school, a small building tucked in the back canals somewhere. Not this. It’s a complete settlement, a village in itself. Yet from what I can tell, no one outside of Nerily knows of the place. Or if they do, no one has ever written about it.”

“You read?” asked Sharli in surprise.

“Ah, yes. You don’t, I take it?”

Sharli shook her head. “The Jha’hazee have no books. Our histories are all told around the fires by our Wise Women or the Ojha’atz – the story keepers. All of this, the big buildings, the concept of a school and of study, it is beyond my experience. It frightens me. Excites me, too.”

Aldernon nodded. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Personally I’ll feel happier once I see more of the place and learn what’s expected of me.”

“You knew you had some magic, didn’t you?”

“Some. In that I can sense a little of how the body works, what lies beneath the skin. I’m not sure it’s a great skill though. Just something I’ve always had and that I became more aware of as I learned to use herbs and medicines. I admit, if they can teach me how to use my healing skills better than I do now, then I welcome the chance.”

“I think we are both lucky to be here,” concluded Sharli, stuffing more duck into her mouth.

The meal over, the servant led them up the stairs and down a long carpeted corridor. Walking on plush woollen carpet was a new experience for Sharli and she liked the softness beneath her bare feet. Compared to the polished wooden floors downstairs, it felt warm and welcoming. There were no tapestries here, just panels of a paler wood than that in the main entrance and dining halls. Lanterns hung on hooks to light the way, which ended at a door half-way down. The servant knocked, waited for a deep voice saying “Enter!” then pushed the door open and stepped in, indicating for them to follow then briefly introducing them as “The new students” before turning and leaving, closing the door behind them.

There were five people in the Lounging Room, all dressed in flowing robes of different colours. Three were sitting in in large armchairs, two of them with glasses of wine in their hands, the third looking up from a book as they’d entered. One was standing by the window, hands clasped behind his back, ignoring them both, his pale green eyes staring out into the darkness. It was the fifth, a large plump olive-skinned man with a balding head of wispy grey hair and dark brown penetrating eyes who welcomed them.

“So, you’re the ones that Josia saw then? You, I take it, are Aldernon, the healer?” Aldernon bowed only to be virtually dismissed as the man turned his attention to Sharli. “And you’re the Jha’hazee, Sharli. Impressive.”

He strode, or rather waddled, toward her, looking her up and down as he walked around her before wandering back to a brown armchair and sitting down.

“Be seated,” he commanded, indicating two straight-backed wood chairs positioned in the middle of the room and facing everyone in the room. Sharli glanced at Aldernon. He shrugged and they both sat. She looked down at her feet, her hands clasping and unclasping in her lap as the silence grew. All eyes were on her, she knew, and it wasn’t a sensation she liked. If she’d had her way she’d have probably run from the room. As it was Sharli felt trapped and a specimen, like a diria, being assessed before a sale.

It was the chubby man who finally broke the silence. “Well, then. Aldernon, you don’t seem to have been worth the effort, except that you came with Sharli. Josia, though, has already informed us that you have more potential than you show and a reasonable temperament. You’ll be under Ellissa, our Healer.” He nodded to a nerian woman of middling age wearing a white and silver robe. She rose and walked across to Aldernon.

“Come with me,” she told him. “I’ll see you to your quarters in the Hall of Healing. And sort out those hands of yours. Josia said you lost your supplies?”

“I did, yes, and feel lost without them,” answered Aldernon as he rose.

“We’ll help you re-supply, in time,” she said. Aldernon managed a quick good night then followed Ellissa out of the room, leaving Sharli alone with the others and feeling even more exposed.

It was the other female, an aging nerian with dark green eyes and long dark blue hair tied at the side so that it draped down the front of her pale blue robe, who spoke first. Dark blue embroidery waved across the material, making it almost appear like waves. “I’m Ireesha,” she said softly. “There’s no need to fear us, Sharli. I know this must seem very strange, your experiences over the last few days must have been quite traumatic. But we’re all here to help you, to assess your strengths and weaknesses. We’ll take it in turns to unlock your hidden talents and teach you control. My expertise is with water, air and storms. Quite an interesting subject, once you get to grips with it.”

The man by the window snorted, turning to face Sharli. “So she says. But the most important studies, my dear, relate to history and to that of the Ancients and plant-life.” His hazel eyes almost sparkled as he spoke, his lean tanned body rippling beneath the gold and dark brown robe he wore. Sharli guessed he was from one of the southern countries, as was Aldernon. “Name’s Farathorn, Head of History and Nature. Can you read?”

Sharli shook her head. “No, our histories were spoken.”
“Thought as much. Not to mind, we’ll have you reading in no time.”

The man furthest away from her and sipping red wine eyed her carefully. Almost she shuddered when he spoke, his sibilant voice rasping. “I’m Hadathyr,” he announced. “Teacher of fire and chaos. From what I can see of you, there’s more than a streak of chaos in you. Tell me, have you ever used fire?”

Sharli glanced down at her feet then back up. If she was to learn, and gain control, there was no need to hide behind her shame. “Yes,” she admitted. “It was after I set fire to the chief’s hut that I was forced to leave.”

Hadathyr nodded. Even sitting down she could tell that he was at least a head shorter than she was, broad-shouldered and well-built, his short hair almost black although his skin was only slightly darker than that of Aldernon. “No shame in it, child. Your lack of control is normal for one untrained. We’ll help you gain that control, although the progress will seem slow, trust us. Othyan, over to you I believe.”

The first speaker, the plump man with his brown robes, nodded. “Well, Sharli, almost done here, just to say that I have fairly general skills, though I specialise in those of earth and stone and metals. Come, I’ll get Annia to show you to your quarters. Breakfast is downstairs, by the way. The gong will let you know when it starts. I suspect you have many questions, but they can wait until tomorrow.”

And she was dismissed, Othyan ringing a bell that summoned the servant almost immediately. Annia had probably been waiting outside, ready to lead Sharli back along the corridor and down another. No carpet covered the light wooden floorboards this side of the Hall and there were more doors leading off into what Sharli discovered were small bed chambers. The one she was shown into was about halfway down, the single bed made of wood and covered with white sheets and a plain grey blanket. A desk and chair stood against one wall, a small chest next to the bed whilst a wardrobe stood along the wall adjoining the door. The window was draped in grey curtains, already drawn. Annia showed Sharli where the washroom and facilities were, then withdrew, leaving Sharli to sit on the bed exhausted, confused and strangely content. She had made it to Nerily. She would be taught how to use magic. At that moment in time, nothing else mattered at all.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Josia slipped off his cream robe, the edges trimmed with purple, and dived into the large pool at the edge of Nerily Forest. Luxuriating in the cool clear water he swam down to the bottom where he lay on the mossy rocks looking up through the fronds of lilac arilli ferns to the dark sky beyond. Beneath the water his eyes were protected by thin membranes that automatically covered the iris but despite the veil, he had not problems seeing in the dark. His night vision was almost as good as if the sun was shining and he had no trouble in discerning the overhead branches of whittan and lurriba trees that grew around this end of the pool.

The small gills at the top of his chest and back had taken over as soon as he leapt into the water allowing him to breathe with ease. It was one of the advantages of his race: nerian could stay below water for hours without the need to surface. Although few did so these days, preferring to live above ground and to only use the water as a means of transport or for swimming around in, never or rarely diving for long beneath the surface. He’d heard that a few nerian had even been born without gills and Josia wondered how long it would be before they lost them completely. He hoped that day would never come. It was what made them unique and so adaptable. The gills were a gift, according to legend, of the Ancient Gods that protected them after the land exploded and created the islands, leaving them isolated from the continent and surrounded by water. Whether or not there was any truth to the myth, Josia had no idea. It was an interesting concept however and it seemed plausible that the whole of Neriadeem had once been a giant fire-mountain that had erupted in the early days of this world. Be that as it may, Josia was glad of his gills and the joy of being beneath the water never failed to refresh him.

Above him the surface rippled and parted as Ireesha dived through the surface, quickly swimming down to join him, her sleek slim body covered in the thin greenish-blue hair they all had to keep them warm in even the coldest waters. Despite her age she still showed no white hairs at all, something Josia envied. He welcomed her with a kiss and they tumbled from the rocks in an embrace that stirred the mud and sand beneath them. For several minutes they relished each others touch, making up for the days apart before eventually settling in each others arms in a dip in the rocks.

“What do you think of them?” he asked silently, their thoughts open to each other. Physical speech was not something they could do under water; Josia often wondered if nerian had evolved mind-speech long before words had ever been spoken by mouth.

“He has some talent, as you say, but will reach his potential fairly quickly. But Sharli – she is strong. Like one of the Thrazheem but with more fire. Hadathyr is excited by her latent talents already.”

“I thought he would be,” answered Josia. “I wonder how many more of them there are, hidden from sight. I need to explore Azam far more carefully. I feel we have neglected the country too long.”

He felt her agreement as she said “Until now Othyan has been almost devoured with his desire to seek out Thrazheem. As has Farathorn. It seems to consume them both.”

“Understandably so. The mystery of their disappearance from Whittan Forest is baffling. Any clues yet?”

“None. There are still only the few left there that we know about, and they seem to have as little idea as to where the others have gone as we do. Farathorn wants to visit them, to question them further.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t already done so. Although I suspect that the Ancient Trees and Ferantu will have nothing more to add.”

“I know.” Again he felt her agreement. And her love. He looked into her dark green eyes and kissed her, holding her close.

“We should head home,” she murmured but didn’t object when he pulled her even closer, fondling her back and buttocks. Laughing, Ireesha combed his hair with her fingers then drew his lips to hers, bubbles rising to the surface as they once more rolled around the bed of the pool, their love and delight in each other undiminished even after nearly two centuries together.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Sharli was awoken by tapping on her door. Scrambling out of bed, pulling the blanket around her to hide her nakedness, she opened the door just enough to see who stood outside.

“Sorry, ma’am, but I was told to you bring you this. It’s a student robe,” explained Annia, showing a grey garment to Sharli. “All the students wear them. Oh, and here’s a towel, soap and a brush too, being as how they said you had none.”

Sharli thanked her, opening the door wide enough to take the items from the nerian.

“How long is it before breakfast?” Sharli enquired, yawning.

“Not long, ma’am,” replied Annia. “It’s dawn already.”

“Thank you, I hadn’t realised,” answered Sharli and the servant turned and left.

Closing the door behind her Sharli crossed the bedroom and drew back the curtains, revealing a view across some low houses to a large pool and the forest beyond. Pleased that she could see trees from her room, Sharli pulled the long-sleeved grey robe over her head, grabbed the soap and towel and headed for the bathrooms. Having relieved herself she made her way to the large communal bath, removing her robe and easing her body into the warm water where one other person, a young nerian girl, was already soaping herself. It seemed strange to share a bath although Sharli had always washed in the river with others of her tribe. Perhaps it was the surroundings, of being indoors, that made it seem more intimate.

The nerian smiled broadly. “You must be the new student,” she announced. “I’m Yrenda. You?”

“Sharli. Are there many students here?”

Yrenda shook her head, her long blue hair spattering water. “No. Not here in the Mi’a Halls. Three other females, six males. There are several healers, loads of woodwork students, and other artisans.”

“They’re taught here too?”

“Oh yes, nerians, anyway. You’re the only female non-nerian here, although there are two male Targ.”

“Targ?” Sharli asked.

“Ah, you obviously don’t know of them. They’re from Tarrigdee, the mountain country. Short, broad shouldered people.”

“Like Hadathyr?”

“Yes, just like him, only much younger and even more serious!!!” Yrenda laughed, almost bubbling. “We’d best get done though, the gong will sound soon and they don’t like us being late!”

As Yrenda climbed out of the sunken bath Sharli almost gasped at the fine green silky hair that covered the nerian’s body but managed to suppress her exclamation in time. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, she realised. There had been hints that Josia, Albian and Falorn were also covered in hair, just that dressed as they had been in long-sleeved robes it had been difficult to see.

Sharli would have liked longer in the bath, she knew it had been far too long since she’d had one, but washed, dried and dressed quickly, returning towel and soap to her room just as the gong sounded. Five long bongs echoed around the Halls as she closed the door and made her way down the corridor and stairs to the dining hall.

It appeared that all students ate breakfast in the main dining room as the tables were almost full. The six Eda’lanaz, including Josia, sat at the top table, overlooking the hall. One chair, that in the centre, was empty and Sharli briefly wondered who would sit there before checking out the rest of the room.

A handful of people sat on the right-side table, including Aldernon. They were all dressed in white robes so she deducted they must all be students of the healing arts. Sharli considered joining her former travelling companion but Yrenda appeared and directed her to the left table where the nine other Mi’a students were already seated. The middle table, Sharli noted, was full of nerian, dressed in rough robes of varying colours, some undyed, plus many wore heavy aprons or tunics over their robes. The artisans, she guessed.

The three other female nerian Mi’a students looked up as she joined them, greeting her politely, as did one of the Targ. He was broad-shouldered as she’d expected, his short black hair greased close to his head, his deep-set brown eyes eyeing her curiously.

“Bethrin,” he said, holding out his chubby hand. “You?”

“Sharli. From Azam,” she replied, shaking his clammy hand and half wishing she hadn’t.

“Ah, wondered. Not common to see a dark-skinned person in these parts. You had a long journey then?”
“Yes, I did. You’re from Tarrigdee?”

“From the Citadel, yes, me and my brother Tiggren.” The other Targ looked up, smiled briefly then returned to the thick broth and chunk of bread that he was eating. “Not exactly a chatty person, as you can see.”

Sharli laughed shyly. “He obviously loves his food.”

Bethrin shrugged. “Too much, in my opinion. But being the eldest, he takes no notice of anything I tell him…”

Conversation was halted then as a servant placed bowls of broth in front of her and Yrenda. Helping herself to some of the nut-bread, Sharli ate. The broth was good although she wondered if she would soon tire of fish. However, the broth was followed by cheese and fruit and there was flameberry juice to drink. The meal over the other students all began to wander out of the hall and she was wondering whether to follow the others when Ireesha approached.

“Good morning, Sharli. Refreshed, I hope?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Then come with me. All the training is done either in small groups or one-to-one. As you’re completely new I’m to assess your skills. I promise you, it doesn’t involve that much on your part, but you need to tell me what you’ve experienced of the talent so far. What has happened to you, what you’ve felt at the time or just before you used the Mi’a, and how you felt later. Once we’ve gone through all that, it will probably be more than enough for your first day. This way.”

Sharli followed Ireesha past the stairs and down a corridor at the back of the building, finally heading into a large room furnished with several armchairs, three desks and stools and a bookcase. There seemed to be a lot of books, not just on the shelves but in piles on the floor. Sharli looked at them in wonder. She’d only ever seen a handful before, in the market square at Yrholm, plus a few on a trestle table that she’d spotted as they’d passed through Lovan.

Ireesha obviously noticed her awe as she sat and said “There are a lot of books here, you’ll get used to them. We’ll start your reading lessons tomorrow – Farathorn will teach you. But now, sit in the armchair across from mine and tell me about your talent, when did you first realise?”

And so Sharli explained about the branch that hit her father, of his death, of her guilt. Of how Aldhira used to watch her. Of her sister Orisha, and how she had been forced to watch her burn. Ireesha offered her sympathy and gently got her through the telling, prodding her for other times when Sharli thought she may have used Mi’a.

“Well, there was the lighting of the oven,” she explained. “The wood had been too damp, too green, and I was having problems lighting it the normal way. I was almost crying for my mother was angry with me for not gathering enough food that day. And I was desperate to get the oven alight so we could bake the flatbreads. And then I tried to see the fire burning in the oven, and felt the tingling, and the oven lit. I was so relieved it wasn’t until later that I realised that the flames had come too quickly, a sudden flare. And I knew then, I think, that there was something wrong with me…”

Ireesha shook her head. “No, Sharli, never think that. There is nothing wrong with you, nothing at all. You have an innate talent, one you were born with. As did Orisha. There were others in your family, I think Josia said?”

“My aunt – my father’s sister, although I never knew her.”

“It happens that way sometimes, that just the women in one family have the talent, not the men,” Ireesha said. “Other times, it seems that just the men inherit. Usually there are more males with the Mi’a than females. Or so it appears. Now, are there any other occasions?”

Sharli told her all that she could remember, ending with the door blasting to pieces when she escaped the brothel. “Nothing since, not that I am aware of.”

The nerian nodded thoughtfully. “Good, it seems to me that you are already partly in control. It is far too easy to use Mi’a as a simple way out, but you seem to have only used it when you needed to, when you felt threatened or angry.” Ireesha smiled, leaning over and resting her hand on Sharli’s arm. “All this must seem very strange, especially being in a new country, not knowing our traditions or culture. We understand. You’re not the first to be found and brought here. Sometimes Josia doesn’t find people until its too late, though. It is those people we feel sorry for, and are helpless often to do anything. Your Mi’a, though, it burned so strongly that he was bound to find it. I’m pleased he did. Now, it is getting to lunchtime and I feel you have done enough for one day.”

The gong sounded, almost making Sharli jump.

“Go and eat, then take the rest of the day to look around Anatha Em Lanie. Tomorrow, Farathorn will begin your reading lessons.”

“I don’t have any money, to pay for all of this,” Sharli began but Ireesha smiled. “Our lessons are free, as is the food and everything else we provide. Once your training is over, and you a full Mi’a, then you can think of paying for all you have learned. Or stay and teach. There will be many choices you can make. Now, go and eat and explore.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lunch had been a simple meal of salad, cheese and bread, with water or flameberry juice to drink. Not everyone had chosen to eat: none of the healers, including Aldernon, had been in the dining hall and only a few of the artisans. Bethrin was, however, and he asked her how it had gone.

“All right,” Sharli answered. “Ireesha seems nice.”

“She’s one of the gentler ones,” Bethrin told her. “But don’t be fooled. They’re all much stricter and sterner than they first seem. Make a wrong move or criticise or do something they’ve told you not to, and you’ll be in trouble.”

“Thanks for the warning. How long have you been here?”
Bethrin finished chewing some bread then answered “We arrived in spring.”

“Spring?” It wasn’t a word Sharli had heard before. Since leaving Yrholm she had spoken in the common tongue, something she had learned by listening in the markets of the town. She had realised that many in Azam spoke the same tongue, as had Aldernon. Her knowledge of the language had increased as they’d travelled together. Here, it also seemed to be spoken by everyone yet she sensed that the nerian had their own tongue. Bethrin too, for his accent was harder than that of Aldernon, and that of the Azeem.

“Spring is the season after winter, when the plants flower. Surely you have spring in Azam?”

Sharli shook her head. “No. We have the dry time, and the wet time. Our plants flower all year. I had never thought it could be any different. And this winter you speak of, what is that?”

And so Bethrin had tried to explain the concepts of seasons, describing them all to her. Snow and ice were so alien to her that she had to give up coming to any real understanding of them although the idea of everything being covered in a white fluffy cold rain seemed nice, even if beyond her imagining. That all flowers died during the winter and the leaves fell off trees made her feel sad. It also made her realise how little she knew of the world beyond the jungle and the small town of Yrholm.

Lunch over, Sharli wandered around Anatha Em Lanie. Apart from the main square around which the Halls of Learning were built, the settlement sprawled around the canal harbour almost haphazardly. She could detect no logic to the way it was constructed, houses and workshops at angles to each other, fenced gardens and yards the only way to work out where one plot began and ended.

There was a smaller square to the east of the harbour with several market stalls arranged in ordered rows and Sharli wandered around them, surprised at the variety of merchandise for sale. Furniture, jewellery, food, clothing, tools, raw materials such as fabrics and pieces of timber jostled for space here, with some carvings, basketry and even metalwork. As one of the artisan students brought something to one of the stall holders it dawned on her: this market not only supplied the artisan students, it was also somewhere for them to sell the goods that they made.

A large white building with double doors wide open seemed to beckon her in. It was a place of peace, with shrines around the walls and seats in front of each shrine. Candles and incense provided light and a pleasant aroma. Sharli saw statuettes of what were obviously gods and goddesses but she didn’t recognise any of them. Until she came across a small statuette in the far corner, a blue and gold scarf draped across her shoulders, flowers and birds about her feet. Yet there was something different about her. She knelt, holding a bowl of seeds in her hands. She was Eshuanti, yet not Eshuanti. Sharli recalled the goddess that Aldernon had spoken of, a goddess of fertility and earth. This was her. And yet there was also something of her that spoke to her of Eshuanti, her goddess of women, earth and water. Perhaps they were the same. The colours of blue and gold were right. But this goddess, was she really another version of Eshuanti? Sharli shook her head and left the multi-religious building feeling even more unsettled by her lack of knowledge and all the differences that she encountered than she had done earlier.

Not surprisingly the forest beckoned to her. She walked to the pool that she had seen from her window, sensing the tranquillity of the water and the surroundings. Here, she began to feel at ease again, despite the strangeness of most of the trees. There were lurriba here, their dark wood and twisted roots digging deep into the earth, leaving hollows as in Azam. Their broad dark green leaves provided welcoming shade although Sharli had not felt really warm since leaving Azam. It was cooler here than in her lands, the heat not as intense although, from what Bethrin had told her, it was the late summer. Going on the abundance of plant life she was glad of that. There were other trees that she did not recognise. Tall straight ones with white bark and pale green leaves were the most common but there were also shorter more knobbly trees with pale brown bark, dark serrated leaves and clusters of nuts. She touched them all – the lurriba, the nut-brown trees, the white ones, sensing their essence, their living spirit. A desire for home, for the jungle, dissipated a little but she couldn’t keep tears from welling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. She was so, so far from home. Isolated. Alone in a strange world that held so many alien things and concepts, they almost threatened to engulf her.

* * *

“So vulnerable. Not once this morning did she even consider lying or with-holding the truth.” Ireesha’s voice was soft as she watched Sharli in the crystalline mirror that hung in the centre of her husband’s study. “Yet beneath the surface she’s stronger than any of the other students we have. But she’s also in sorrow, in mourning for what she has been forced to leave behind, still grieving too for the sister she was forced to watch burn.” Ireesha shuddered. “How could anyone do that to another human? To any creature? To let them writhe and scream and burn alive.”

Josia put his arm around her. “Cruelty has many forms. What was done to her sister, and to her aunt, was done out of fear. To make others see that so-called witches could die so horribly and do nothing to save themselves.”

“Yet if she’d had the training… surely she could have done so?” Ireesha turned from the scene in the mirror and looked at Josia.

He nodded slowly. “But she had never been trained. Never knew. Had she been as powerful as Sharli, though, she may well have saved herself. By instinct alone. I suspect Orisha was never strong in the Mi’a. Just did enough to bring down the hatred of the village upon her. In fact, I suspect that the Wise Woman uses Mi’a and possibly feared being undermined by others with the talent.”

“So why let Sharli go? Why tell her to run?”

Josia studied the black woman by the edge of the forest, saying nothing for a few moments. When he did reply, his voice was even softer than that of his wife.

“Because she knew Sharli was too strong to burn.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Aldernon had had a frustrating day. The other students were well below his knowledge level when it came to herbs and fractures and broken bones. Yet they had abilities that he didn’t have. Would probably never have. The Mi’a that they used with what seemed to him hardly any thought left him struggling. He could see what they did but couldn’t direct his talent to do the same. As always, he was able to sense the defaults within the human body and to feel the Mi’a working, but had no idea how to direct his own talents to do what he instinctively knew needed to be done. All he seemed able to do was to set bones and use herbs as any physician or herbalist would do.

The nerian hadn’t really helped either. Eliissa was so skilled, so full of Mi’a that he was convinced she couldn’t understand how he could possibly not do what was expected of him. No one had laughed at him as such but he could feel them tittering behind his back, had been aware of their amusement at his inability to tackle even the slightest healing with Mi’a alone.

Striding out of the Hall of Healing and toward the piers, he skirted the harbour, walking around it until he reached the end of the canal where he stood, peering down into the darkening waters. Twilight had greyed the sky, the sun’s light a pale pink that slowly sank behind the hills. It was good to see dusk again; it was one thing he had missed in Azam. The sudden jump from day to night and back to day again was something he’d always found unsettling. It was good, as well, to feel cooler air against his skin and see some familiar trees. The white bark of the whittan had been a welcome sight, having been brought up close to the forest that bore their name.

Not for the first time since he’d left his homelands, his thoughts travelled to the town of Whitmuth where he had grown up as a child and had been taught medicine and herbs by his parents. His father had been a respected doctor; his mother his assistant and skilled herbalist. So skilled and respected were they both that the Empire had noted their talents and called them into service, forcing them to travel to the Hill Lands.

The Hill Lands. Were they still plagued with bandits and Wilders, he wondered? Did the rebels of the Imperial Forces still fight their guerrilla war against the Empire? It was no use going over what had happened there. Yet he did. Recalled the attack on the lonely outpost where they had been living, his parents caring for the sick and injured troops. Remembered how he had run toward their makeshift hospital, fear rising in his throat as bile, the flames rising into the night sky. Reaching them too late. Too late to save any inside.

Imperial troops had been outnumbered, those in the outpost at the time ignoring the burning building and instead attacking the rebels, running after them as they fled. Not one ran for water to put out the flames. Only Aldernon and another trainee herbalist, both of them out of the hospital at the time for their meal break, had attempted to halt the spread of the fire and try desperately to save those trapped inside. The smell of charred bodies still filled his nostrils whenever he thought of what had happened that evening. He held his stomach, his guts churning, pain hardening his chest as the memories flooded back.

And they wondered why he ran, why he became a Wilder and refused to serve the Empire.

Aldernon shook his head, pulled back his shoulders, looked up to the stars and to the moon that was growing in the sky, half-shrouded by clouds. Within a few days it would become a golden ball rather than the pinkish semi-circle that looked down upon Rohinval now. Fade again slowly afterwards into a slither, disappear, then grow again. His mother had told him that the moon was special, that it lived and died and was always reborn, gathering strength from the people below.

“It is said that the Fates have their home on the surface, or did. Before they slid down to Rohinval and set out as Wanderers, Nomads of all the world. I like to think that some times they return to their home, to look down upon us, to bless us all.”

She had been a wise woman, Aldernon decided. A loving mother, a caring woman. He missed her now more than he had ever done before.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Sharli had watched nerian swim in the pool the previous night, seen how they all delighted in the water, seeming to come out refreshed. Yrenda and the other female students – Lyazhi,  Razzia and Ithira – had all gone to the pool after dinner that night, urging Sharli to join them in the water. But she had been reluctant to do so. Not that she hadn’t been tempted for the water looked cool and inviting. Somehow though she didn’t feel as welcome as they seemed to insist that she was.

The feeling of being the outsider, the stranger, lingered the next morning as she entered the study where Farathorn was to teach her how to read. She’d been surprised by the number of books in Ireesha’s room, but the bookshelves that lined three walls of the historian’s study made those pale into insignificance. Standing floor to ceiling, each was full of books and scrolls. More stood on two large desks beneath the large window that looked out onto the main square, light flooding into the room as the sun rose above the forest beyond.

Farathorn, dressed as before in the flowing gold robes edged in dark green, looked up as she entered from a large book that he was obviously studying. He indicated with a wave of his hand that she was to sit at a smaller desk, ignoring her for several minutes as he continued to read. She wondered which country he was from but decided it probably didn’t matter. Definitely not from Zhoresh or Ho’adeem, with their brown skins and not from Tarrigdee either. Wondering how many countries there were she gazed around the room, her eyes alighting on a large map on the wall not covered in bookshelves.

“You know of maps?” asked Farathorn, making her jump slightly.

Sharli answered slowly “I have seen some, in our local market. But never could make any sense of them.”
Farathorn rose from his chair and strode across to the map, telling her to follow as he pointed out Nerily. “This is where we are, in Neriadeem. Here,” his finger moved to a large area across a pale blue patch and down “is Azam. And here,” she followed his finger as it moved all the way across the map to the far edge and up slightly to another large area of land “is Essanti, my homeland. Here are the lands of the Danveshi Empire,” he waved his hand over a large area of land “and these are the mountains, and this is Tarrigdee.” He indicated a dark area below the Empire but across the sea above Neriadeem.

“I had never known there were so many lands,” Sharli murmured softly. “So many!”

“There are others, too, not on this map. The southlands, mostly unknown to us. The seas too dangerous to allow passage although occasionally, rarely, a ship does reach here from there. But no ship that ever sails south ever returns so we don’t really know much about those lands. Anyway, let’s do what you’re here to do. You have no idea of letters?”

Sharli shook her head. Farathorn nodded and led her back to the small desk, opening one of the books that he’d obviously prepared for her, drawing up a chair next to her as he began the process of teaching her to read. The symbols were confusing, seemingly dancing on the page, making no sense to her at all. She realised it would be a hard day ahead.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“What progress?” asked Josia of his wife.

“Good, in that Sharli seems to be grasping the basics of control,” answered Ireesha. “Still erratic though.”

“Understandable,“ remarked Hadathyr. “With her underlying sense of chaos and fire, it will be harder for her than most. Perhaps I should begin lessons with her?”

“Perhaps. I think she’s probably ready, considering how much power she has her control is already pretty good. You’ll find she learns quickly,” commented Ireesha. “What about her reading?”

Farathorn looked up from his book, shrugging. “Slow. But progressing. I think she’ll learn eventually but its not easy for her. Not that easy for me either, it’s been a while since I had to teach anyone how to actually read from scratch.”

Josia nodded. They were sitting in the Lounging Room as they often did after dinner, comparing notes on the students and generally discussing how to proceed with the more difficult ones. He quite enjoyed these sessions although he longed for the quietness of the pool. Soon enough though he would escape, him and Ireesha. It was better late at night, when the nerian students had all disappeared and gone to bed leaving the pool deserted.

Othyan scratched his chin and sipped his red wine before indulging in some of the fine crumbling white cheese of Ulla and a thin cracker. There was always a platter laid out for them in the evenings but only Othyan ate much. “I think Hadathyr is right, though. Start her on a bit of fire Mi’a tomorrow.”

Hadathyr nodded and poured out a glass of the red. There should have been a High Master Eda’lana but since the death of Urrath two years ago the job of acting Master had fallen to Othyan and such decisions as to when students were ready to progress further fell on his shoulders. He was not fully qualified though, his lack of skill in fire and chaos a failing that none could overlook. Urrath had been the last of the Eda’lanaz to be prolific in all the talents; their numbers had dwindled alarmingly over the years. Where once there used to be twenty now six were all that remained. Othyan worried that soon they would be too few to continue. His only hope was that somewhere amongst the students one would rise to be a full master. But none showed that amount of promise although Bethrin would no doubt have the skills to replace him in time and Yrenda’s skills would allow her to follow Ireesha. Only Sharli, the latest, had the strength that might bring her to the level of High Master. Might. If she didn’t burn out or over use her Mi’a or worse, kill herself in the process of learning. It had happened before. And would no doubt happen again.

“Go slowly, though, Hadathyr. We can’t afford to lose her,” Othyan said.

The targ nodded. “I know. It’s been far too long since we had anyone with her potential. Does she show signs of any talent with storm, Ireesha?”

“Yes. With air too. Not much with water though, I think the fire and chaos are too strong within her for that. But you’ll see tomorrow.”

“No High Master in the making then?” Othyan sighed.

“I’m not sure,” replied Ireesha. “She’ll need to expand her Mi’a but that’s always a possibility. Once she gets full control, who knows where she’ll go?”

“I’ll continue looking,” Josia announced. “Now that we’re aware that Azam holds the potential for Mi’a students, I’ll focus on there for a while.”

Othyan nodded as Ellissa joined them, her skin still damp from her swim in the pool. She ambled over, helping herself to a glass of the red wine before sinking into one of the comfortable armchairs.

“How goes it?” enquired Othyan.

Ellissa shrugged. “Most progress as they should, but the new one, Aldernon, continues to perplex me.”

“Why?” queried Farathorn.

“He has talent, knows herbs and how the body works. His skill in healing physically is way beyond that of the other students. But…” she paused, sipping some wine.

“He can’t use Mi’a,” Josia finished for her.

“You knew?”

“I guessed,” Josia said. “I wonder if it is because he is so much older, that he was taught the healing skills with no thought to his Mi’a.”
Ellissa nodded. “You could be right. I need to somehow open up his talent. It’s there, I can sense it. He can use it to detect what is wrong but is unable to use Mi’a to actually heal. He’s as frustrated as I am. I’m not sure how long he’ll stay if we can’t find a way to show him…”

“That bad?” sighed Josia. “A shame. As you say he has the potential. Does anyone know if we can help him? Not my skill, as you know.”
“Urrath would have known,” muttered Othyan between mouthfuls of cheese.

“Indeed. He was such a loss,” declared Farathorn. “But perhaps I can help – I’ll check his old books, if I may, Othyan? See if there are any clues amongst them? He always seemed to have a way of opening up latent talent.”

The acting High Master nodded. “Of course, Farathorn. It’s about time you had access to his library. Here, I’ll give you the key, let you loose amongst his books. Don’t get carried away, though!”

Farathorn smiled. “I’ll try not to. But you know me.”

“Indeed we do,” nodded Othyan.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Sharli was surprised when Hadathyr led her into his classroom that morning. She’d been expecting to continue her reading lessons before going to Ireesha after lunch to carry on exploring her Mi’a and her control of the talent. The targ Eda’lana had, however, intercepted her en route to Farathorn’s study, telling her that they had decided it was time for her to try using fire.

Now she stood in the large room at the far end of the Hall of Mi’a with Bethrin. It was the first time that she’d shared a lesson with anyone but she was glad of his company. She had begun to feel rather lonely being taught one-to-one. As Hadathyr sorted out candles and lanterns on a large stone slab Sharli realised that the whole room was lined with a dull stone.

“Are there many accidents?” she whispered to Bethrin.

The young targ shrugged. “Never had fire lessons before so I wouldn’t know. Though Tiggren said he almost set fire to something he shouldn’t. No idea what.”

“So what have you been learning?”

“Mostly been with Ireesha and Othyan, learning about water and storms from the first, and cutting rocks without blades as well as seeing into the earth and rocks to find crystals from Othyan. I like the latter most, relates to what I know from other targ.” He realised her blank look, explaining “Targ are good miners. I’ve seen others with the Mi’a who can help locate minerals or valuable metals, so that the miners know where to dig. A useful skill. Well paid, too.”

Sharli nods. “I can see how that could work,” she answered. “Not sure about fire though. To me it just seems destructive.”
“That’s because you haven’t learned how to use it.” Hadathyr’s voice broke into their conversation and Sharli turned to look at the teacher, inclining her head slightly. “Fire is not just destructive. You can use it to light candles and lanterns, which is what you’ll do first. It can be used to start fires for cooking when out in the wilds. To light torches. And to create a small firelight that can show you the way in dark caves or tunnels.”
He demonstrated by producing a floating ball of fire in the middle of the classroom. Small and firmly controlled, the firelight moved around them then back toward Hadathyr before he waved a hand and the light vanished.

“That, though, is for later, now I want you to practice lighting these candles. Bethrin, you first. See the large candle nearest to you? Concentrate your Mi’a, envision a tiny spark, no more, and light the wick.”

The candle almost melted completely, Bethrin exclaiming “Oooh!!!” and stepping back, the fire he’d called immediately extinguished.

Hadathyr grunted. “I said a spark, Bethrin. Not a huge fireball! Now, both of you, watch me carefully – use your senses to see what I do. Sharli, I’m not sure how much you know yet, so just try to open up the Mi’a within you gently, as Ireesha has been teaching you, then concentrate on my power. Can you do that?”

“I think so,” she replied, reaching within her as Ireesha had directed her and extending the power, very gently, toward Hadathyr, trying to detect his Mi’a. She gasped. It swirled, held tightly within him, but was far more chaotic than that of Ireesha’s Mi’a. Hers was almost like a soft blue cloud tinged with white. Hadathyr’s, however, was a mix of colours: red, yellow and orange, with just a hint of white, silver and a wisp of purple. Almost angry.

Obviously able to sense her touch, the Eda’lana said “Good. Now watch.”

Just a wisp, like a tiny breath, of his Mi’a reached out toward the candle, vanishing into thin air as soon as the wick caught. Hadathyr extinguished the flame with his Mi’a a moment later, snuffing out the small fire almost as quickly and delicately as he’d lit it.

“Your turn Sharli. Remember, just the tiniest of images, the slightest touch.”

Sharli looked at the candle, holding her own Mi’a carefully, hardly daring to breathe. The control was incredibly difficult to achieve. Her spark was much bigger than that of Hadathyr’s but it was easier than she imagined. As soon as the wick burst into flames she dampened it down. The candle had burned down about halfway, but at least it hadn’t completely melted.

“Not bad for a first-time. The trick is getting the tiniest spark, the finest touch of control. Bethrin, your turn again.”

And so the morning passed. By lunch-time both of them had managed the control they needed but Sharli felt exhausted by her efforts and was grateful when the gong sounded. She needed the time, as well as the food and the flameberry juice, to allow her to recover.

As they left the room, Hadathyr announced “Tomorrow morning you both come here again. Sharli, Farathorn this afternoon, to continue your reading lessons.”

She nodded then left. Hadathyr watched the slim black girl leave, breathing a sigh of relief that her control had grown enough. He’d seen her power and had been almost struck dumb. Not only did her Mi’a contain the reds, yellows and orange of fire and chaos, it mingled with blues, greens, browns and golds, and even a hint of the cream and  purple of the Knowing. She had a touch of white and silver too, although he suspected that her healing powers would never be strong.

He wondered if Ireesha, skilled with water and air, had been able to see all the power that Sharli contained. It was feasible that she couldn’t. To the nerian it would probably seem that the girl had little of the blue or white that was used for water and air spells. Ireesha, he knew, had no Sight, no trace of creams or purples and thus couldn’t sense Mi’a as well as those who did.

Even with his very limited Sight Hadathyr, however, could see how Sharli thrummed with huge untapped potential, her Mi’a incredibly strong and bright. Yet she had isolated her fire without seeming to think about it, knowing instinctively what was required to light the candle. No wonder Josia had spotted her from such a distance. She was a beacon of pure light that he hadn’t seen since the death of Urrath.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Bethrin kept looking at the black girl whilst eating his lunch, trying hard not to show what he was feeling. She was intriguing. Her skin almost glistened in the light that shone through the high windows of the dining hall, her wavy hair blacker than any coal that he’d seen in the mines of Tarrigdee. He was also able to sense some of the power that was contained within her, the jumble and confusion of colours and light. It dazzled him when he’d first noticed during the class this morning, as he tried to watch how she made the small spark needed to light the candle. That somehow she’d managed to control the Mi’a so easily when she had so much completely baffled him. And made him respect her. No wonder the Eda’lanaz were looking at the girl with such delight.

“So you refrained from burning down the Fire lab then?” asked Tiggen.

“Of course,” huffed Bethrin. “Not all of us are as chaotic as you are.”

“I’m not chaotic!” his brother retorted. “Just a bit – shall we say, impulsive?”

Bethrin chuckled. “All right, then, impulsive. And rather chaotic.”

Tiggen punched his arm, groaning at annoying little brothers. Bethrin ignored him. Such bantering between them was nothing new and both knew that deep down they would do anything for each other. Almost. One thing Bethrin was sure about: there was no way he was going to let Tiggen, even if he was the elder, better him in his rock and earth studies. But then, Tiggen, despite his early failures with fire and chaos, was now far better at them than Bethrin would ever be. Tiggen would be a warrior, not a miner, and they both knew it.

Sharli rose and muttered that she was going for a short walk before the afternoon session; although Bethrin was tempted to join her he just nodded, adding something pathetic like “Enjoy” before returning to crunching his apple. Waiting until Sharli left, Tiggen laughed.

“Why, brother, I do believe you have the hots for the new girl!”

Bethrin shrugged. “She intrigues me, is all.”

“Oh aye, bet she does. Actually, intrigues us all. Zherin likes her too, y’know. Told me this morning after breakfast. Couldn’t keep his eyes off her.”

“That little squirt?” Bethrin shook his head. “He doesn’t stand a chance. Hardly any Mi’a and he expects to attract someone as powerful as Sharli? No way.”

Tiggen eyed his brother carefully. “She’s as strong as they say, then?”

“Oh aye, definitely. Learning quickly too. Wouldn’t be surprised if she beats us all to her Master’s Cap.”

Tiggen whistled. “That good? Wow. I’ve been reading up about Azam. Did you know they don’t have seasons there?”

Bethrin nodded. “Just rainy and dry times. She told me,” he added when Tiggen raised his eyebrows.

“Figures, you never read anything. Oh, and Azam is much hotter than here, think Sharli comes from the far south, full of jungle, humid, hot, full of snakes and scorpions. Sounds an awful place.”

“Doesn’t sound brilliant, I admit. Do they have any mountains?”
“None like Antarrigaz or Sa’heth Yrgaz. Just hills.”

Bethrin frowned. He loved the mountains of his homeland. Especially those of Antarrigaz. Tiggen, with his leaning toward fire and chaos, preferred the fire mountains. Whilst they could be spectacular, Bethrin found the deep quiet and solid dependability of the Antarrigaz far more to his liking. In a way, it was why, despite being brothers, they differed so much. But then, it wasn’t unusual for siblings. The quiet one, his mother called him. The soft one, his father said on more than one occasion. Whilst Tiggen had always been unpredictable, fiery, impulsive. He also had the build of a warrior, muscular but lithe and slim, unlike Bethrin’s penchant toward chubbiness. Still, he was who he was. With any luck Sharli preferred the quiet type to the chaotic personality of his brother.

Sharli wandered toward the edge of the forest, away from the Halls and the other students. Apart from Bethrin and Yrenda they ignored her, barely nodding even in greeting when they passed. The targ intrigued her and his friendliness drew her toward him yet still there was a huge gap between them He had no knowledge of her homelands; she had none about his. Her ignorance of Tarrigdee probably shouldn’t bother her yet it did. In fact the huge gulf in her knowledge of this world troubled her. She knew so little beyond the borders of what had been her home back in Azam. Yes, she had learned much as they travelled north and she had learned even more since arriving in Nerily. But it was virtually nothing compared to the knowledge that the other students seemed to have. Would she ever know enough?

Kicking some twigs on the forest floor Sharli noticed a large piece of fallen wood. Almost without thinking she bent and picked it up, turning it over in her hands. She could carve this, she decided. It would give her something to do during the long evenings. Whilst the nerian students swam in the pool and the two targ disappeared into the Blue Tavern on the far side of the village, Sharli had nothing to do. Turning she wandered back to the Hall, returning the branch to her room before going down for her reading lessons with Farathorn.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Farathorn sighed after Sharli had left. She may be full of power but her ignorance and her lack of skills that were taken for granted in the nerian and even in the targ nagged at him. Still, there was little he could do apart from teach her reading. She was improving, that was something. Perhaps in a week or two she would be able to begin studying some of the histories. Histories that she should already know.

He walked out of his study-come-classroom and made his way out of the Hall and across the square to the large house that used to belong to Urrath. Unlocking the door with the key that Othyan had given him, Farathorn pushed open the door and entered. There was a faint musty smell that was common in buildings that had long been deserted, a few footsteps in the dust that showed that Othyan had been here occasionally but none that led to the back of the house and the large library that had been the private domain of the former High Master. A tingle of expectation and excitement filled Farathorn as he unlocked the door to the private library and stepped through.

It was difficult to see, with only a few streaks of light penetrating cracks in the closed wooden shutters. Having eased them open, wiping off dust that had covered the large central desk and leather chair that Urrath had once used, Farathorn turned to study the bookcases. Not only were they around three walls of the library but also two areas of shelving stood in the centre of the room. He recalled having spent some time here when Urrath was alive, the two of them scouring the shelves for books on various subjects. The library had been here for centuries, started by the first High Master and built up over the decades by the others that followed. It was a wealth that had been ignored for far too long. But then, Othyan had his own personal library as did he.

Farathorn strolled to the nearest of the central bookshelves, his hands gently caressing the books as he studied the titles. In due course he would want to check them all but for now he tried hard to resist those that had nothing to note on the subject of opening Mi’a to those who had closed themselves to it. Not that there would be a book on that specific subject. No. It would more likely be a page, perhaps only a paragraph, that would hint at what he needed. As he searched for anything that might contain such help Farathorn began to wonder why this library had no catalogue. It would make sense if it did. Perhaps..

He smiled. Aldernon needed something to keep him here. Farathorn knew from what Ellisha had told him that the man had studied. He had read, by all accounts, of the histories of the nerian as well as of medicines and herbs. Perhaps he also enjoyed learning about knowledge in general. If so he could be the perfect candidate to research this library himself, and to catalogue it as he did so.

Choosing a few likely books, noting where he had taken them from in a ledger on the desk, Farathorn left the library, having first secured the shutters and locking the door behind him.

An hour later and he had got the approval for his plan from Othyan and Ellisha. He found Aldernon in the Blue Tavern, sulking in a corner whilst drinking Ullan red. The man seemed distant, hardly noticing when Farathorn strode across to his table and asked to join him, shrugging acceptance as if he didn’t really care. Settling himself down, Farathorn let the silence hang for a few moments before saying “I hear that you’re struggling. You’re not the first you know, not by any means.”

Aldernon sipped his wine and turned to face Farathorn. “It was a long shot, I guess. My Mi’a, as you call it, is weak. Probably far too weak to use in any meaningful way.”

“Perhaps. But I don’t think so. You’re blocked, by something. Who taught you your skills?”

“My parents. My father was a physician, my mother a talented herbalist. What she didn’t know she could discover in books, although she seldom needed to do any research.”

“And you? Did you read?”

There seemed a spark of interest in the man’s eyes as he nodded. “Oh yes, when I could. But when we moved to the Hill Lands we had to leave most of our books behind. Left them in the hands of a friend of my father, Luthien. Unfortunately he didn’t value them. When I returned to claim them, after…” Aldernon paused, a flash of sorrow and anger crossing his eyes “After their deaths, I learned that Luthien had sold them all to a trader for a pittance. I never traced either the trader or the books.”

“A sad story, so much treasure disappearing…” Farathorn watched Aldernon carefully, letting the words hang. Eventually he was rewarded.

“Almost as big a tragedy as that of my parents deaths.”

“What happened? To your parents?”

And with only a gentle nudge from Farathorn’s Mi’a, Aldernon opened up, telling of their enforced move to the Hill Lands, of the deaths of his parents, of the Empire’s lack of concern over what had happened and how he had turned Wilder.

Farathorn heard and saw the bitterness and anger, noted the grief that still lingered even after five years had passed. It deepened his own despair of the imperial rule that had spread across the northern regions over half-a-century ago, the control that had followed and the loss of so much knowledge as libraries had burned during the sacking of castles and towns. In Aldernon, Farathorn had found an ally, a like-minded spirit. By the end of that evening, he had also found a librarian willing to catalogue the whole of Urrath’s library in exchange for two sylvan a week on top of his board and lodging and continued studies.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Aldernon couldn’t believe his luck as Farathorn opened the door and showed him the High Master’s library. It was a treasury worth far more than any gold. Stunned he just stood for a few moments, his mouth gaping.

Farathorn chuckled. “Incredible, isn’t it? But completely and utterly useless until all these books have been catalogued. Urrath, it seems, knew roughly where most books were kept but even he didn’t know exactly what ones are kept here. Having inherited it, he had to search to find anything. Only by doing so did he learn where certain books were. So, you see the task ahead. As I warned you, not an easy one.”

“But one that will be a pleasure to do. You have somewhere I can write everything down?” asked Aldernon, still over-awed by the sight of so many books in one room. Never had he ever imagined that such a place existed. Oh yes, he’d seen libraries before, had been in the Healing Library in the Hall where he currently resided, but never had he seen so many books stored in one place.

Farathorn strode across to the huge desk near the window, opening one of the drawers. “Here, there are some notes written by Urrath that may prove helpful. And here is the large ledger where Eda’lanaz have written what books they have borrowed with dates and when they were returned. I have a few out at the moment, you’ll see them noted here.”

Aldernon crossed to where Farathorn stood, nodding as he scanned the latest update in the ledger. “No one has taken any for over two years?” he asked incredulous.

Farathorn shook his head. “When Urrath died the house was locked up. Only Othyan has been in since, and he has no real love of books or need for them. We all have our own libraries, tiny in comparison to this, but they stock the books on the subjects that interest us. Until last night no one has been here.”

Aldernon shook his head. “Unbelievable. Can you provide new ledgers and pens for me to use, to catalogue everything?”

“Of course, I’ve already organised it. My servant, Idri, will bring them across later this morning. Oh, and here’s a key to the house and to the library.” He handed them both to Aldernon. “We had them made for you. Urrath and I have the only other set.”

“You trust me?” asked Aldernon. “With all these?” He swept his arm in a semi-circle, indicating the whole library and the valuable collection.

Farathorn nodded. “There’s a ward, I placed it last night.” When Aldernon looked puzzled, he explained “A ward woven with Mi’a, that will prevent you, or anyone else, from removing anything. Not that I don’t trust you, but Othyan insisted upon it. Not just to stop you but to stop anyone who may visit you here, or simple bandits breaking in. It should have been done years ago.”

“What about fire?” asked Aldernon, fully at ease with the ward. It made his job safer and would keep him safe from accusations should anything go missing.

“No problem, all the houses here are fire-warded. There are too many items of value within Anatha Em Lanie and we’re too close to the forest for us to ignore the risks of lightning strikes or natural fire – it’s not unknown for forest fires to sweep down from the hills.”

Aldernon nodded. It seemed the Eda’lanaz thought carefully about protection and it was something he should have guessed. He also wondered if the whole village was not protected against intruders. Since living here he had seen very few people arrive and all that did came up the canal, mostly traders that brought food and other essentials. All known to the Eda’lanaz and their servants.

“Right, I have to go,” Farathorn declared. “Idri will bring the ledgers to you later. I suggest until he arrives that you have a look at Urrath’s notes, and the ledger of borrowing, as they give clues as to some of what is here. Come and go as you please, just make sure that the library and house are secure when you leave.”

“Of course, I’m honoured by the trust you’re placing on me, and would hate to break that trust.”

Idri appeared mid-morning, ledgers, pen and ink balanced with care on a large tray. Aldernon helped the nerian to place them on the desk, asking as he did so “Have you worked for Farathorn long?”

“Oh yes, for a nerian with no Mi’a. I joined him here twenty years back. Of course, the Essantian has had many servants since coming here, seeing as how the Eda’lanaz outlive us by several decades.”

Stern and straight-face, Idri spoke in a tone that was matter-of-fact. Aldernon had never considered that any of the scholars could live longer than normal human life-spans but now he thought about it, he realised that they were far too knowledgeable about so much that they must live beyond the usual seventy years or so to acquire all that they knew. “Farathorn is from Essanti then?”

“Oh yes, sire, from a noble family they say. But I wouldn’t know how long he has been here, or from which family. All I know is that he has been a worthy man to serve, despite his frequent forgetfulness and often being so engrossed in his books that it’s hard to prise him away from them to eat. Will that be all?”

“Ah, of course, sorry,” exclaimed Aldernon as they laid the last of the inks on the table. “Thank you Idri.”

“My pleasure, sire.”

Aldernon waited until the servant left then closed the door, turning once again to survey the books and the task before him. It would take him years, he decided. Did he want to stay here that long, in this place almost cut-off from the outside world? He smiled. He was safe here, safer than anywhere else he’d ever been. Returning to his homelands or to anywhere in the Empire wasn’t an option. Azam was out too, after his encounter with Luan and his colleagues. The life of a Wilder had never really suited Aldernon, his skills as a healer were limited. Here, though, ah, here he could study as he catalogued. What would he learn? Already he had noticed, in Urrath’s ledger, that there were tomes about the Ancient Trees, and the Thrazheem. Aldernon had long wanted to learn more of both. The Trees, it was said, were legendary fountains of knowledge, ancient beyond belief. As for the Thrazheem, so little was known about them. They were myth, people who dwelt within the forests, secretive, mystical beings of whom many tales were sung and told but of whom nothing was really known. Most assumed they were a fairy tale, pure myth. Aldernon had never believed that. Now perhaps he had the means to discover if they were myth or reality. Sighing happily, he strode to the desk, arranging the ledgers and other items to his satisfaction then walked across to the nearest bookcase. Might as well begin at one end and work his way around. He stretched up, taking down the first few books, blowing off the dust and returning to the desk to begin the catalogue.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Sharli watched the leaves fall from the whittan tree, traces of gold and yellow glistening in the autumn sun. She had watched them turn from dark green to their present colour, amazed and awed by how the whole forest had changed. The lurriba maintained their dark green, the leaves unaffected by this season they called autumn. But the leaves on the nut-trees had also turned a different colour although they were red now, and the clusters of nuts had ripened. A rustle in the fallen leaves made her look further into the forest as a small furry animal searched the undergrowth, half-running, half-hopping, his tiny front paws pushing aside the leaves until finding the nut he sought. He clutched it in his mouth, scampered away and dug a hole beneath one of the lurriba, hiding his precious find before returning to his search.

“A squirrel,” announced a voice behind her. “I’ve always found them such fascinating creatures.”

Sharli turned. “He’s cute,” she announced, not surprised that it was Josia behind her. He had a way of walking so softly that he often came upon her by surprise, even though she knew that her own hearing was far better than that of most people.

“They are indeed. And in the very cold times they hibernate – sleep in a hole during the winter, just waking when hungry or warmer weather creeps in. Although here in Nerily the winters rarely get cold enough for the squirrels to hibernate for more than a few days.. Although no doubt winter will feel cold for you, it’s very mild compared to further north.” He glanced at the wood in her hands, asking “Another carving?”

Smiling, Sharli nodded. “A diria. The goat-like creatures that live in Azam.”

“May I?”

Nodding Sharli handed him her latest carving. “I finished it a few minutes ago.”

Josia turned it in his hands, obviously admiring her work. “It’s excellent. You really ought to sell them, you know.”

Sharli laughed, “I doubt that my small carvings could ever match anything done by the artisans here. Their woodworking skills are far superior to mine.”

“Don’t belittle your skills, Sharli,” answered Josia. “The nerian woodwork students may be talented within their own field, but none create such wonderful animal carvings as the ones you make. Ask the stall-holders, see if any would be willing to try to sell them for you. They take a small commission but most of the sale would go to you. You could do with the coin,” he added when she hesitated.

Sharli nodded slowly. “I could. I have none left, after buying the jacket.” She pulled the garment around her as she spoke, pleased with her recent purchase. Made of wool it helped to protect her from the winds that were now frequent. Not that nerian seemed to need anything like this, nor the targ. But then, she knew they were used to this climate. “And that’s how I got the coins I did have, by selling carvings in the market of Yrholm.” It seemed so long ago now, and so far away. So much had changed that Sharli felt a different person, a grown woman. And yet there was still a lot that she didn’t know. Despite her ability to read now, and her evening studies of histories that Farathorn had lent her, she realised that she’d only just begun to scrape the surface.

“I hear your studies have progressed well,” Josia said. “So well that it seems it is time for me to become one of your tutors.”

“In the Knowing?” Sharli gasped. “I doubt that I have much talent in that area.”

“Perhaps not but you have some. And it would be wrong of us not to show you all areas of the Mi’a. You do know that your powers have grown since you came here, don’t you?”

Sharli considered his words, watching the squirrel for several long moments. Had her power grown? Was it possible? And yet, she sensed the truth behind Josia’s words. She had control of her Mi’a now and had discovered things about it that still bewildered her. Briefly she searched within. Touching with her mind on the cream and purple swirls that she could now see. They were faint but then, the blue and green had become stronger since her studies of water and nature had progressed. Perhaps the Knowing would increase too.

Looking at Josia, Sharli said “I hadn’t thought about it. But I can sense it, now I look.”

He smiled. “Even that, Sharli, is a big step in proving to me how much you have discovered since we brought you here from Azam. Do you still miss your homeland?”

“Yes,” Sharli answered. “Even though there was little love shown to me, or care, or even friendship, I miss the jungle, the sounds, the smells. This forest, lovely as it is, can never be the same. The food, too, and the language. Speaking the common tongue can’t replace our own dialect, the nuances of words about the jungle and our lives just aren’t there in this language.”

Josia nodded. “I can understand that. Farathorn tells me the same about his own tongue being so much broader. And how he much prefers to read books in their original languages because they lose something in translation.” He studied her for a moment, before asking “Are you happy here, though?”

Again, she paused. “I’ve learned so much, and you all protect me here as well as care for me, so how could I not be? You’ve made me realise how little I knew, how little I still know…”

“And yet?”

“I feel alone,” she said, truthfully. It was no use hiding anything from Josia. He probably already knew. Sharli had sensed his gentle probing, his use of the Knowing, just a touch on her emotions. She had resented it but understood his reasons. “But of course you know that. How do you do it?”

Josia seemed taken aback, his frown softening and turning to a look of acceptance, perhaps a hint of pleasure. “You felt that touch?”

She nodded.

“Then it is truly time I began to teach you.”

 

Josia watched as Sharli left for her evening meal, his frown deepening. Although he, and others of the Eda’lana could sense her swirls of Mi’a and detect the colours within it, there was a wall around her. One that stopped him from doing more than touching her with his feather sight, one that she felt immediately, one from which she stepped back and erected her walls without even thinking. She was, he suspected, completely unaware of what she had done. Whilst it was good to have wards Sharli’s wall was stopping the Mi’a from being used fully. It was also preventing others from becoming friends with her. He’d spoken to Yrenda and Bethrin earlier. Although both wished to make friends with her, neither had. Both had spoken that she withdrew from them. Bethrin had even sensed the wall around her.

They needed to somehow get her to relax, to drop that wall. It would stop her from learning the Sight and the Knowing; as well as shield the Mi’a within her. It was explosive, seeking an outlet. If she kept up as she was, Sharli would destroy herself as the Mi’a imploded. He suspected that when she had set fire to the hut and broken through the door of the brothel it was her anger and the build-up of Mi’a that had been released in such a fiery fashion. Thoughtfully, Josia returned to his home. He would have a word with Ireesha and the others. Before it was too late.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Days passed, turning into weeks. Aldernon enjoyed the hours spent in the library, his knowledge growing as he sat there in the evenings, reading some tome or other. Mostly he worked on the catalogue during the day, between his lessons. Somehow his ability to use the Mi’a had begun to improve. He wondered if it was the fact that now he felt more relaxed in his studies and more open to the Mi’a. Certainly since his time in the library he had felt more at home here. Strange, that he should end up in a place so remote, so alien from all that he grew up with.

His latest reading was on the Wars of the Empire. He found it fascinating, how Danvesh had started as a small country, tucked between the rivers of Danem and Myrsh but had grown into the Empire it now was. First it seemed that they had gone west into the Whittan Forest, a region that had belonged to no-one, wild and untamed. By building the High Road through the forest, using the lumber they harvested to construct ships and increase the size of their navy, they slowly grew and had the resources to improve their own towns. Dan was the name of the original tribe, hence the name of the lands.

He wondered how much religion played a part in the growth of the Empire. It was difficult to tell if it was the birth of the Azhulli sect or the growth of Danvesh that came first. Perhaps they came together. Certainly the conversion to Azhull and the control of the people seemed to grow at the same time and same rate as the Empire. Aldernon compared the two books that he had in front of him, his thoughts whirling with implications. There was no proof that the Wyshan, the controlling body of the religious Order of Azhull, had anything to do with the power of the Empire. Always, any link between the two was denied. And yet… it niggled at him. Surely the growth of imperial might and the growth of the sect had to be linked? He was still comparing the two books, one about the history of the Empire, the other about religion, when Farathorn entered.

“Ah, Aldernon, how are things going?”

“Well, but very slowly. I’ve been trying to catalogue the books by subject as well as by their order in the bookshelves but it’s sometimes difficult to work out what subject to list the books under,” he replied. “Take these on the desk, one is purely about the history of the Empire of Danvesh, so the subject is obviously history of Rohinval, but the other,” he pauses as he waves at the book he is reading, “Well, it describes the various religions of the world, and I was going to put it under religion. But then, I realise that at least in one area, in that of Azhulli, it also involves history…”

Farathorn nods. “So list it under both. It doesn’t hurt. Perhaps add a note?”

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking.”

“By the way, what does it say about Azhulli?”

“I’m finding that intriguing,” Aldernon said, pleased that Farathorn has asked. It gives him an excuse to discuss it with the Historian, and tells him what he has read so far, finishing “So, am I right? Are the two linked?”

Farathorn looks thoughtful, studying the relevant passages before answering. “I think your deduction is correct. At the time it wasn’t apparent, isn’t so even now, but yes, my own conclusion is that religion plays an enormous role in Danvesh and always has. If only there was a way to prove the link it might cast a completely different light on the Empire.”

“And getting the proof is impossible,” stated Aldernon.

“I know, as is so much in this world. Anyway, it’s getting late, and I actually stopped by to ensure that you don’t spend all your time working. I was on my way to the Blue Tavern when I saw the light here so thought I’d drag you along with me.”

Aldernon smiled. “You’re right, it’s far too easy to become completely obsessed with this. Thank you, I do need to eat, and a jug of ale wouldn’t go amiss either.”

 

The tavern was relatively quiet as the two entered. A minstrel was singing a love song as they sat at a table in one corner, Aldernon ordering himself some stew as well as the ale. He still felt a little uncomfortable sitting with someone as high as Farathorn but the Eda’lana soon put him at his ease and the reason for the visit to the tavern soon became apparent.

“You travelled with Sharli, didn’t you?” asked Farathorn between sips of ale.

“Yes, of course. I suppose I acted as protector to her, although I’ve hardly seen her since arriving, with us being in different Halls and busy with our different studies. How is she? Is there something wrong?”

“Not wrong as such. Her studies go well but she’s, well, still lonely. It seems that the other Mi’a students still view her as an outsider, only three that we know of ever speak to her. But she doesn’t help herself, withdraws into her room in the evenings, or walks into the forest away from people. It’s as if she’s put up a wall between her and everyone else. We’re not sure why.”

Aldernon nods slowly. “She often went for hours without speaking much, even when we only had each other for company. I just put it down to everything being so strange to her. I did try to converse with her, telling her things about my life, about Rohinval, trying to prepare her.”

“Did she tell you anything of her life?”

“Yes,” Aldernon said, having a bite of stew before continuing. “Not much but enough to know that it wasn’t exactly fun. Seems she’d been on the outside of her own tribe most of her life, people not wanting to get close to her because of her sister, fearing that she was also what they termed a witch. Think it left her with no confidence in herself.”

Farathorn nodded slowly. “That’s what we feel. But she still looks at us with awe, even Josia is having no luck opening her up – it’s as if she’s built a wall around herself, one no one can penetrate. In itself, it may not be a problem but it has potentially enormous consequences for her Mi’a. We all need to ward ourselves, to keep our thoughts and inner abilities safe from others. Sharli’s wall though is preventing her from learning certain things. She has the Sight, the Knowing, but can’t use it because her wall stops her from seeing. She feels every touch on her, and clams up immediately. Her penchant for being honest makes her vulnerable, despite her wall. She seems almost to be in constant mourning, and it worries us.”

“So you want me to befriend her, using our companionship on the journey here as a base? To see if friendship will help her break down that barrier?”

“If you can, please,” confirms Farathorn.

“Then I’ll do what I can. But no promises,” agrees Aldernon.

Farathorn thanked him then finished his ale before bidding good night. Aldernon sat for a while longer, sipping ale as he listened to the minstrel, enjoying the surroundings. It wasn’t until he was getting bed that something Farathorn said struck him.

“…at the time it wasn’t apparent….”

A slip of the tongue? Or had Farathorn actually witnessed the expansion of Danvesh from its beginnings over two centuries earlier? Impossible. Aldernon decided he must have misunderstood, his thoughts turning to Sharli and wondering how he could resurrect their friendship before he drifted into sleep.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY

Aldernon found Sharli easier than he thought. He had gone to the market during lunch the next day to look for some new boots, his being extremely worn after the journey. He hadn’t been able to afford any before but now that he was earning some coin for his cataloguing, he’d been able to save enough. As he haggled with the stall owner, he spotted Sharli looking around the market and quickly completed his purchase, before striding across to her.

“You’re looking rather nervous,” he commented as he approached.

“Oh, hello, Aldernon. I suppose I am a bit. Josia suggested that I try to sell some of my carvings but I’m not sure… with all these skilled artisans, I really don’t think mine are worth anything,” Sharli answered.

“I’m sure you don’t do your work justice,” he replied. “There’s a guy down the bottom of this row of stalls who sells carvings. Come on, I’ll back you up if you need someone to convince him.” He paused as she hesitated, then added, “It’s not the first time you’ve sold your carvings, after all. Didn’t you sell them at Yrholm?”

Sharli nodded. “Yes, but that was easy. I knew the trader and he liked my work.”

“As I’m sure the one here will, come on, he’s down here.”

Reluctantly Sharli let herself be drawn toward the stall where again she hesitated. It was Aldernon who greeted the trader and turned toward Sharli, saying “My friend here has some carvings she’s thinking of selling but is too shy to show them.”

The trader, a short nerian with dark green eyes, looked her up and down, a smile on his lips as he said “Ah, one of the Mi’a students. Let’s see what you have, no need to be shy, if I don’t like them, no harm done, eh?”

Sharli smiled nervously then opened up the bag that she was carrying, carefully putting three carvings on to the trader’s stall. His eyebrows lifted, looking from them to her, before he took them, one at a time, turning them carefully in his partly webbed hands. “Now, these, these are fine work. I’m quite stunned. Unusual too. Animals from your native land, I assume?”

“Yes. That’s a diria; that one is a monkey; the third is one of the alligators,” Sharli answered, her smile of relief cheering Aldernon.

“I will indeed try to sell them for you,” the trader said. “In fact, I’ll be extremely happy to do so. Shall we say, three sylvan for the diria, seeing as how it’s fairly small? Four each for the other two? I’ll charge a bit more for them, of course, but you know how it works, I’m sure?”

Sharli nodded. “I do. Thank you.”

“Thank you, if you do any more, please bring them here. They may take a few days to sell, so, perhaps if you return in a week or when you’re ready, I’ll let you know if they’ve sold and give you any coins owed. Is that fair?”

“I think so. Although the trader in Yrholm would give me money up front, but then he always sold my work, and would take the pieces elsewhere sometimes. But as you don’t go anywhere….”

The trader laughed. “No, I don’t. Here, a receipt for each carving. I promise you not to run off with them or your coin. The Eda’lana would never let me trade here again, and would probably ensure that I never traded anywhere else in Nerily either. Here you are…” he handed over the receipts. “I’ll see you again in a week or so.”

Aldernon smiled at Sharli as they walked away from the stall.

“See told you it would be easy, they were fine carvings. You have quite a bit of talent. Do you fancy a drink in the Blue Tavern before you return to your studies this afternoon? We have time…”

“I… I don’t know…” Sharli hesitated, looking around her. “I’ve never been there. Is it safe?”

Aldernon frowned briefly then understanding dawned as he looked at the worried woman. “More than safe. You’ve never been in a tavern before, have you?”

Sharli shook her head. “They were out of bounds to us. Evil places, we were always told. For men only.”

“Not here, lass, everyone goes to the tavern here. Even women on their own. Here, I’ll treat you to a quick flameberry juice, see what you think,” Aldernon steered her gently toward the main square and the tavern as he spoke, trying to reassure Sharli as they walked. He realised that not once on their travels had they actually entered a tavern, always sleeping outdoors on the wagon. He recalled Lovan, how she had seemed reluctant to stay there, wanting to travel on. And after her experiences in the brothel and the stories of her tribe, who could blame her?

The Blue Tavern was a pleasant place, the reed mats clean, the tables spotless as were the tables and the bar. It was, thought Aldernon, one of the most ordered and the certainly cleanest, taverns that he had ever visited. It seemed to him that the Eda’lana insisted on cleanliness throughout the settlement. Nowhere had he seen any sign of dirt or disorder, whether it be in the classrooms of the Halls or in the gardens and yards surrounding the homes and workshops. He wondered if it was due to the nature of the Mi’a; certainly now that he could use the talent he had noticed that it seemed based on carefully woven energies rather than chaotic forces. But that was something to consider for another time. Now he directed Sharli to a small table by one of the windows, pleased that there were several females in the tavern, including one group of three women nerian, artisans by their garb. He ordered two flameberry juice then turned his attention to Sharli.

“So, how have you been? I’ve hardly had time to seek you out since we arrived. Sorry, I should have done so earlier,” Aldernon began, noticing the tension within the Jha’hazee as she glanced around the tavern before turning to Aldernon.

“Oh, the studies have gone well,” she answered. “I can read now, Farathorn is a good teacher, even if rather forgetful. And Ireesha and Hadathyr seem pleased with my progress too. I’m due to see Josia this afternoon, to start lessons in the Sight, or the Knowing. Though I don’t think I have any talent for that.”

The juice arrived, and Sharli thanked the serving woman, sipping her drink as Aldernon nodded.

“Good, I’m glad you’re studies here are going well. Even I’ve made some progress, although it was hard to start with. But it seems I do have some talent with healing Mi’a after all.” He laughed, trying to put her at ease. “So, have you made any friends?”

Sharli shrugged. “Sort of. Yrenda, a nerian, and Bethrin, one of the targ brothers, talk to me sometimes. But the others seem withdrawn. Probably because of who I am. I feel as if I don’t really belong here, Aldernon. I can’t explain…”

“No, I can understand that,” Aldernon answered. “I felt like that too, at first. All these talented people, mostly nerian. It’s not been easy to understand that I’m also here because of my skills. As are you.”

“So what changed, for you? You seem content. As if you.. belong.”

“I opened up, talked to people. Started coming here with some of the other students, went out of my way to chat even when I didn’t feel like doing so. Perhaps you need to do the same…” Aldernon suggested as the bell sounded in the tavern. It was the signal, like the gong in the Halls, that lessons were about to restart.

Sharli finished her juice quickly and stood, Aldernon walking out of the tavern with her and part way toward the Hall of Mi’a. “We could meet again perhaps? Perhaps I could take you into Nerily one afternoon when you don’t have lessons?”

She looked up at him, her face furrowed in surprise. “That’s allowed?”

Aldernon smiled. “Yes, it is. There are some rowing boats for students. Or a ferry that we can use, that may be easier – saves me getting blisters. You didn’t know?”

Sharli shook her head slowly. “No. I’d begun to think….” She stopped. “Sounds silly, I know, but I thought we weren’t allowed to leave.”

Aldernon took her hand in his, gently, as they reached the door of the Hall and stopped. “No one is a prisoner here, Sharli. Yes, there are restrictions, we’re expected to attend our lessons and behave. But no one can stop you leaving. When do you next have a free time?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” she answered.

“Good. I’ll meet you here, after you’ve eaten. And we can go and see the sights of Nerily. Together. If you’d like that?”

Looking more at ease than she had been since he’d seen her, Sharli nodded. “Yes. Yes, please, that would be nice.”

“Tomorrow it is then…”

She thanked him again then walked into the Hall of Mi’a for her afternoon lesson. Her step seemed to Aldernon to be more joyful, more relaxed, than it had been earlier. He only hoped that showing her the sights, letting her explore the city and having some freedom would ease her mind further.

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Sharli was wearing a woollen jacket over her old tunic and trousers that she’d acquired in the temple at Lovan but looked hesitant as she walked toward Aldernon. Her black hair had grown since she’d arrived, waving down to her shoulders and glistened in the autumn sunlight. Despite her obvious concern and lack of confidence Aldernon thought how much she had grown since they had arrived. Even his small talent could sense the power that radiated from her. Perhaps that was the reason for others keeping their distance. They were in awe of her, maybe even scared of her. It was something he would broach to Josia or Farathorn next time he saw them. Both had been delighted that he was taking her out of the village, as they termed this place of learning. “It will do her good to go I’m sure of it” Josia had said, “She seemed more relaxed after your talk, a little less reserved. Enjoy yourselves.”

“You look nice,” Aldernon remarked as Sharli joined him. “Is the jacket from the market?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Unlike the nerian the autumn winds make me feel cold. Although I notice that you don’t need any jacket.”

“No, but then, I was brought up in colder climes than this,” Aldernon answered as they walked across the square to where the ferry was moored. “To me, it still feels almost hot.” He grinned, and she smiled, her face lighting up. She needs to laugh, he thought, then her whole being would shine. And checked himself immediately. He was here as a friend, not as a prospective lover. Gods, that was the last thing she needed!

The ferry as they called it had several seats for students and others going into Nerily and was powered by sails and oars, although Aldernon suspected that Mi’a was involved somehow as well, for the boat skimmed through the water much faster than it should. There were five others aboard: one was a trader from the market, two appeared to be students probably going to visit Nerily to buy supplies or see their families, the other two were servants who worked in the dining hall. Aldernon and Sharli sat near the prow, facing forward, as the ferry almost sped down the canal.

“It’s fast!” Sharli declared. “And they’re using some sort of Mi’a – wind, I think. I never realised you could use it for that.” Her eyes seemed distant and Aldernon realised that she was trying to sense how the Mi’a was being used. Eventually she nodded to herself, obviously having worked it out. “Yes, I see…” she murmured then turned to Aldernon, shaking her head slightly. “Sorry, I was trying to figure it out.”

“I guessed, no apology necessary. This Mi’a is still very new to me, to both of us. Mine isn’t very strong but even I could sense the power being used, never could figure it out though. So, any idea what you’d like to see in Nerily?”

“No. A walk around would be nice, I’ve never been there at all, as you know, just seen it from the river when we arrived. Have you been in much?”

“Not a lot. I’ll show you the water-park, it’s quite a feature, full of fountains. And the High Council building is impressive, too. We can eat in the city too, before returning, it will give us more time.”

“Oh, I don’t have any coin,” Sharli breathed, upset.

Aldernon reached out and squeezed her hand. “No need, I can pay for us both, my treat.”

“But, I feel as if I should….”

“No, it’s my idea, and my treat. Did I tell you I have a job now? Cataloguing the books in an old library, it’s fascinating work.”

“Oh, that’s good, you enjoy it?”

And so he told her all about the library and his new job as the ferry turned into the main river and down toward the city, buildings gradually becoming more frequent and the trees and shrubs less so until both banks were built on with houses, piers and walkways as the river widened. The ferry moored up at a point on the outskirts of what Aldernon regarded as the main city and they clambered out onto the pier, the ferry-man reminding them that the last ferry would leave an hour after dusk. Aldernon nodded, thanking him, and directed Sharli along the walkway toward the river bank.

He took Sharli through the extensive network of streets that stood behind the river, pointing out the buildings of the Justices and the Guards. They were the only ones he’d managed to work out. Both had their own small canals that fed into the main river – it seemed to Aldernon that everyone here regarded the canals as the main arteries. Indeed there were no horses, no carts and no carriages to clog the broad streets so that walking was a pleasure. Nerian would appear occasionally from between buildings or from the canals that backed the properties, their hair and skin wet, sometime their robes too. Sharli commented more than once that none of them seemed to feel the cool breeze that blew quite strongly in places, noting that she would be shivering. Even Aldernon had to admit that it didn’t seem the best way to get around although he added that most used boats of some description. He assumed that those who swam had only gone a short distance or had perhaps been swimming for fun.

When the reached the large water-park with the High Council building on one side Sharli gasped in amazement. The portico of the Council Hall was pillared, ornately carved with fish, trees, rivers, boats and nerian. The blue, green and white flag of Neriadeem flew above the building, what Aldernon regarded as an idealised map of the lands in green at the centre on a field of blue, the whole edged in white. But impressive though the building was, it was completely outdone by the water-park that spread out before it. A huge central fountain of many colours dominated the park, one enormous spout rising several feet into the air with smaller sprays around the edge coming from the mouths of beautifully carved fish. Tiled pathways meandered through the grass and between the numerous other fountains of varying sizes and design with large pools at the edge of the park. Here nerian bathed and swam, not worrying about their nakedness. One pool seemed to be for children who played happily in the water, laughing and shrieking in delight. They stood and watched for a while, Sharli’s face lighting up and Aldernon was almost regretful when he finally pulled her away.

“Time to eat, I think. There’s a nice tavern near the ferry pier, if we head back there we should be able to sit outside in the porch and see the ferry arrive, so that we don’t miss it. I’d hate to have to pay for a boat-taxi back!”

“A boat-taxi?” she asked as they turned and headed out of the park.

“Yes, a novel idea for us, I know, but here they seem common. But not unlike the carriages that can be hired in cities back in Danvesh, where they take you to places you need to go, for a price, of course.”

“That seems just as strange to me,” Sharli said, shaking her head. “But I can understand the logic. Are the cities in Danvesh as large as Nerily?”

“Danemby probably is, although it’s difficult to tell, without all the canals that take up so much room here. But it is a sprawling port, either side of the river, with one bridge down river from the docks and numerous ferries that ply back and forth,” explained Aldernon. “The docks handle trading vessels from all over the Empire as well as many coming from much further away, including Essanti and Galgath. Even boats from Zhoresh, Azam and Ulla make their way around the coast to Danemby. Their equivalent of the High Council building here is very different – more a group of buildings around a large cobbled square, comprising the headquarters of the army, the Watchers and the government. And then there is the temple complex too, nearer the edge of the city. Trade districts with their Guild Halls, the merchant villas, the markets – there are three – the theatres and entertainment halls as well as the poorer areas. There are a lot of those, with squalid alleyways winding through them. Not places to explore alone if you don’t live there.”

“It sounds awful,” shuddered Sharli.

“Parts of it are. Compared to Nerily, which is so clean and fresh, despite the thousands who live here, Danemby is a hive of dirt and noise. I confess that I’m impressed with how the nerian manage their city, and Anatha Em Lanie. They’re both so clean, so orderly, in comparison to anywhere else I’ve ever visited.”

“I think that is because of the Mi’a,” remarked Sharli. “Partly, anyway. Mi’a, despite its chaotic appearance, only works when the threads are ordered, drawn together in certain ways. Even the use of fire and chaos energies work that way. Unless you control them, order them, the threads of Mi’a won’t work. Or if they do, they produce explosive results. Too much and they harm the user. I suspect that order is innate to the nerian because I believe they are used to the Mi’a, and there are more of them who are born with the talent.”

Aldernon considered her words before replying “I think you may have a point. Even with my limited ability I see what you mean. And there certainly seem to be a lot of nerian with the ability. In the Hall of Healing I would say that 90% of the students are nerian. Is it the same with your group of students?”

Sharli considered. “Certainly most are nerian. There’s only myself and two targ who come from elsewhere.”

“Makes me wonder why. Is it because here Mi’a is accepted, so that those born with it are recognised and trained? Or is it that nerian are more likely to have the talent? Anyway, here is the Ferry Tavern,” Aldernon said, directing her into the large building that stood next to the pier where they had landed. It was an open place built on stilts with archways that led to a large porch enclosed by railings. Unlike any tavern he’d ever known it was a civilised place, where the tables were clean and scrubbed, with high-backed chairs to sit on rather than rough benches or stools. They found a table overlooking the ferry pier and a nerian serving girl came almost immediately.

“What do you have to eat?” asked Aldernon.

“Crab salad, tuna salad, fish pie or shellfish stew,” she answered. “I recommend the stew but all are good.”

“No doubt they are,” Aldernon answered. “I’ll have the stew.”
“The pie,” replied Sharli. “And flameberry juice, please.”

Aldernon requested a tankard of ale and the girl left, leaving them alone. Sharli looked out across the river and he let her sit in silence as he eyed her, taking in her beauty. Not like the women of Danvesh with their pale skins and blonde or brown hair and blue or green eyes, yet attractive nonetheless. He yanked his eyes away as desire rose within him. It wasn’t good for her. For either of them. Was it?

The meal was good, as promised, and reasonably priced too. They ate mostly in silence, with little more to say, leaving just before the ferry appeared to take them back to Anatha Em Lanie. Dusk settled on the canal as the boat whisked them back to the settlement, the sky tinged with pinks and reds.

“Beautiful,” breathed Sharli. “We never get skies like this in Azam. One minute it is light, the next dark. I’ve come to love these evenings, this twilight. I can understand why you missed evenings like this.”

“You know? I don’t recall saying that I did,” Aldernon answered.

She smiled, then looked down at the hands in her lap. “I’m sure you must have,” she muttered then raised her head, her eyes reflecting the dying sun. “This land is good, you seem happy here. Will you stay?”

Aldernon smiled back. “I think so. You?”

“I have nowhere else to go.”

And her hand gently touched his arm, just briefly, as the ferry arrived back in Anatha Em Lanie.

“Thank you. For a lovely meal, for a wonderful afternoon.”

He helped her out of the boat, his heart pounding, and she didn’t let go of his hand as they walked back toward the Hall of Mi’a. Outside they stood in silence for a moment, Aldernon wondering if he dared kiss her. In the end, he did, a peck on her cheek, before stepping back and letting go of her hand. She smiled.

“Good night, Aldernon. I have a full day tomorrow, but perhaps, after dinner?”

“Of course. Here, again?”

“That would be nice,” Sharli answered. “Until then.”

He watched her enter the Hall then wandered back slowly to his own quarters wondering if he was being fair to her. But feeling a warmth within at the prospect of seeing her again.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Sharli enjoyed her classes the next day, and felt as if she had done better than in the past. Despite her thoughts wandering back to the previous evening her Mi’a felt easier to access, and to control. Both Josia and Hadathyr seemed pleased with her progress as well, Josia commenting that her attempt to ‘see’ in the crystal mirror had improved enormously from her first attempts.

She had found the Sight almost impossible until that afternoon, her ability to see in the crystal at best extremely hazy and revealing little. But today she’d managed to focus on the square outside the Hall of Mi’a, seeing the fountain and tiny faint dots of purplish light that wandered around. Those, according to Josia, were people with Mi’a. She had sensed Josia’s swirls of creams and purples, as well as a little white and green. Not that she told him; he hadn’t asked her to look at him but she hadn’t meant to – he was so strong that the colours almost flooded his very being. It was probably wrong, she knew, to notice them.

Josia had already told her and Razzia, one of the female nerian who was also studying with him, that using Sight on other people without their knowledge was regarded as an infringement of that person’s privacy.

“Sight is to be used with extreme discretion,” Josia had told them. “Certainly you must avoid deliberately seeking out anyone’s thoughts or emotions. However, if that person is very close to you, it may be impossible for you not to sense how they are feeling. In all other cases, unless there is a need, like if you feel endangered, or are concerned about someone’s health or well-being and have a reason to use your sight, as in healing, then do not do so. However tempted you are. Even a light brush against them may well warn them of what you are doing and alert them to your abilities.”

“Is it wrong, then, to use Mi’a?” Razzia had asked. “Should we keep our talents hidden?”

“No, using Mi’a, if you have the talent, is not wrong in itself. But you need to be aware that others may dislike your ability or regard it as suspicious,” he replied, glancing at Sharli. She had avoided his eyes but knew that he was wondering if he should tell Razzia about her experience. He didn’t. For which she had been thankful. There were things that Sharli didn’t feel happy about other people knowing and was glad that Josia obviously accepted her right to privacy. “And Mi’a is to be used extremely carefully and only when necessary, or to teach others. As we do here. Outside of Anath Em Lanie, as you already know, the use of Mi’a is limited for various purposes. For aiding the sailing of boats, for example, or seeking out ores in mines. Peaceful activities, for the good of all. As for the Sight and the Knowing, these are specialist talents, and have restrictions placed on their use. Now, Razzia, let us see how much you can see in the crystal mirror.”

And so, she knew. Mi’a was useful, but had to be restricted. To be kept like a tool, ready for use but not to be abused. And Sharli wondered, had her previous use of her talent been wrong, evil even? Where did these Eda’lanaz draw the line? What would happen in war? Was it permissible to use the Mi’a in conflict, as self-defence, even as a weapon?

None had actually told her that her use of Mi’a had been against their laws but the stress on peaceful activities made her believe that they did not approve of what she had done. Especially of her setting fire to the chief’s hut. An action that, she had decided, had saved her from a life of abuse and had hopefully caused Oxhelm problems. But she repeatedly got the feeling that they were watching her carefully, keeping her in check, determined to ensure that she kept to their rules. What did they really, truly believe and how far would their ‘rules’ stretch? She doubted that any of them had actually been in a situation where they would need to defend themselves. How far would they go?

She raised her questions and concerns with Aldernon that evening as they sat in a corner of the Blue Tavern, telling him how all of the teachers had mentioned the rules with her although not always directly.

“References to peace,” Sharli muttered, “always to keep the Mi’a controlled, to work within the rules and laws. Only to use Mi’a in certain conditions or when employed to, like in the mines. But what about the situations that I faced? Was I wrong?”

“You should ask them, face to face,” he answered. “With the healing arts, we are supposed to only use Mi’a if the patient agrees. But what use is that? What if the patient is dying, unconscious? Do you not use Mi’a to save them?”

“Surely you must, if you can,” Sharli replied. “Have you asked?”

“Oh yes, but Ellissa’s answer was muddled at best. Something along the lines of if their wife or husband is happy, then use the Mi’a. Or if you know they wouldn’t object. It’s pure madness.” Aldernon shook his head. “I confess that their restrictions on the use of Mi’a is beginning to annoy me. I understand the need for restraint. For control. But it seems to me that they are almost obsessed with the idea that Mi’a should be an almost passive tool, only used when completely necessary. When there is no other choice.”

“So I’m not alone then? In my thinking,” Sharli observed, sipping her flameberry juice before speaking again. “that these teachers give an almost obsessive stress on peace. It’s good to know that. All the other students seem not to question anything that they’re told. Although Razzia did ask this afternoon if it was wrong to use Mi’a. Josia said ‘not in itself’. Which, to my mind, is no answer at all. Almost an avoidance.”

“Perhaps you should talk to the other students then,” Aldernon said. The lantern-light flickered across his face. Sharli hadn’t realised how rugged he was, in a handsome way.

“I’m not sure, I still feel like an outsider. But you’re right. I should get to know them better. It’s just hard. They are different. These nerian, with their beautiful city and their easy lives, they seem to have no concept of how hard life can be,” Sharli sighed. “Even the two targ, they seem to have had a relatively easy life. I can’t see either of them struggling to live in a jungle, where the land seems to fight you all the time. Though I’m sure I wouldn’t find the mountains that attractive or easy.”

Aldernon laughed, his eyes lighting up as he looked across the table at her. It would be, she knew, so easy to fall in love with this man. Despite their difference in ages. He must be, she guessed, at least ten years older than her, perhaps more. Yet did it matter? “The mountains are a hard rugged place to live in,” he said. “Unless you’re targ. Cold too. No place for a jungle lass who loves the warmth. Even here you shiver.”

Sharli smiled, nodding. “I know. Although I’m getting used to the cooler evenings. Somehow they’re almost pleasant.”

Later Aldernon walked her back to the Hall, his eyes seeking hers as they stood to wish each other good night. “I’m not sure how far you wish this friendship to go,” he said softly. “I would hate to go too far.”

Sharli smiled. “I know. And I appreciate that more than you can ever know. Can we wait, and see? Your friendship means so much to me. With you I can talk, exchange thoughts and ideas that I can’t do with any one else. Perhaps, though, it’s more than that.”

And she stretched up, kissed his cheek lightly. Felt her whole being glow. Decided that the feeling was good and kissed him again. Didn’t draw away when he held her hands and returned her kisses, gently, on her lips.

“Tomorrow? Same time?” he whispered.

“Yes. Til tomorrow…” Sharli replied and turned, looking back at him over her shoulder before entering the Hall.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Josia, Ireesha and Hadathyr stood on the balcony of the Lounging Room as the two newest students parted company for the night.

“It seems that they have become more than friends.” Hadathyr announced.

“It does indeed,” replied Josia. “Still, if it works to keep them both happy, then we should be grateful. Sharli’s lessons went better today.”

“Likewise, this morning her control was almost perfect,” the targ commented. “Although I still fear that her Mi’a is too strong. The chaos within her is almost frightening. If she were to unleash that power in true anger, I dread to think what could happen.”

“Is it likely that she could do so?” Ireesha asked.

Hadathyr shrugged. “In the right situation, I’m sure of it. That she burned the chief’s hut, blew apart the brothel door, when her talent was only just beginning to develop, shows that she’s capable of far more dangerous acts.”

“Then we have to continue to stress that Mi’a is only to be used in peaceful actions,” Josia said. “I told her, and Razzia, again today. Yet I’m not sure Sharli is as obedient as she should be. I felt her touch of Sight on me today, a mere feather against my Mi’a, looking. Presumably to find out how strong I am.”

“She’s checked me too, I believe,” Hadathyr said thoughtfully. “I don’t think she necessarily meant to pry – I suspect that it’s almost something she does naturally, as if it’s second nature to her, to see beyond her physical capabilities. It’s as if the Mi’a within her uses her. If that makes sense.”

Josia nodded. “I know what you mean. And that’s what makes her so dangerous. If she were to step outside of the rules and the laws of Anatha Em Lanie I suspect there is nothing we could do to prevent her from wreaking havoc.”

“Is she likely to?” asked Ireesha.

“Difficult to tell,” replied Josia. “My Sight doesn’t go that far. There is nothing I can See that allows me to know for certain. All I can tell you is that her whole being is shrouded in mists. Sharli has an uncertain future. One of the few people I have tried to See where nothing at all is predictable. There are a jumble of paths ahead of her and she could take any of them. Some are passive, many are not. One wrong turn and Sharli could become a force for evil, or for destruction. It worries me.”

“Then we need to keep her contained,” Hadathyr answered. “Should she venture far from our protection and outside of our wards, I almost dread to think what could happen. I wonder, indeed, if we should permanently constrain her abilities.”

“Use Chains of Restraint upon her?” asked Ireesha in surprise. “Surely that is out of the question! She has done nothing so far to suggest that such action is necessary.”

Josia leaned against the balcony, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he replied “Not yet. But it may come to that, should she step outside of the rules. Her power is certainly there, and there is the risk that Sharli may become a Chaosmonger.”

Ireesha took in a breath. “And if that happens, the gods protect us all.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Aldernon studied the histories of Danvesh carefully. From what he could tell certain battles seemed to indicate that magic had been used. Or at least, some mystical power had been at work for there were things that made no sense otherwise. Earthquakes, landslides, wild fires and unpredictable weather had been noted on numerous occasions during the Imperial Wars that had ravaged the northern lands and left the Empire in control.

But had it been Mi’a at work? That was hard to tell, and there were no actual accounts of magic. Was that because the histories had been written by those who knew nothing of the possibilities of Mi’a? Or had the writers deliberately ignored magic so that no one would know or make the connection? Unless one searched and asked the questions that he was now doing.

It was only because he was looking that the oddities became apparent. Yet he wondered. And again, he questioned the role of the priests of the Azhulli sect within the Wars and the birth of the Empire. The thought that somehow the two were connected had nagged at him for days now. Were they, the priests, actually using Mi’a to control the ‘faithful’? Or to actually use Mi’a to cause so-called natural events or disasters that worked for the Empire in war?

And if so, if that were the case, was that why the Eda’lanaz were so determined to stress peaceful use of Mi’a? To prevent the spread and use of Mi’a for war and the spread of any more empires?

More importantly, were the Eda’lanaz worried that Sharli, with her history of causing fire and blasting out doors, could behave in a way that would disrupt the earth and bring chaos to the world?

Aldernon rose from the desk and paced. He struggled with the thought that he was falling in love with someone who could be so destructive. Yet he had to conclude that Sharli was capable of raising fire and probably causing death. Although he doubted that she would go as far as that, to deliberately cause the death of anyone, it still niggled him. And then there was the letter that he had found, stuffed between the pages of the book. He read it carefully once more. It raised questions and fears that he felt demanded answers.

He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and left, securing both library and house, and drawing up his hood as he left the protection of the porch. The rain had been relentless since the middle of the night, large puddles forming on the streets. There had been some rain since he had arrived here but this was the most torrential he had seen so far. With so many pools and streams it was obvious that Nerily and the isles experience a lot of rain. It seemed clear to him now that most of it fell during their autumn and winter. Certainly it was making up for lost time as he strode across to the Hall of Mi’a, dodging the biggest puddles.

He shook his jacket as he crossed the porch and walked into the entrance hall. He had no idea where any of the Eda’lana might be at this time of the afternoon. Teaching, probably. Yet he knew that his questions needed answers and he was impatient to get hold of someone who could help him to understand. One of the servants appeared from the corridor and he asked her if she knew where Farathorn was.

“In his study, I believe, although he may be teaching,” the nerian answered. “It’s along that corridor, third door on the right.”

Aldernon thanked her and made his way there, standing for a moment outside of the door before taking the plunge and knocking. Farathorn called for him to enter almost immediately.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Aldernon said as soon as he stepped through, noting with relief that the Essantian was alone.

“Not at all, just writing up some notes. You look worried. How can I help?” Farathorn answered, indicating an armchair close to his desk.

“Well, it’s something that’s been troubling me for a while. I know that I probably shouldn’t have taken advantage of my position in the library but, well, I’ve been reading about the Imperial Wars,” Aldernon said, wondering how much he should tell. Or ask. “There are things that are unclear. Like the convenient earthquake just before the Battle of Arriantor that left the armies of Wayrdee in complete confusion and allowing the imperials to virtually walk in. Other events too.”

Farathorn looked grave. “And your question is?”

“Was Mi’a used? And, more importantly, were you there? Did you, or any of the other Eda’lanaz take part? From what you said you witnessed those events. Incredible as it seems.”

“Mi’a is not a weapon. You and I both know that earthquakes do indeed occur naturally as documented in the histories. As for my being there, that was over two centuries ago!” Farathorn chuckled. “I think you have an over vivid imagination, Aldernon.”

Aldernon wondered if he had over stepped the line, had gone too far. Had he been right to raise the issue? Yet this was important. He pulled out the letter he had found and unfolded it, handing it to the Essantian.

“There’s this too. It was in the book I was reading. It seems to suggest that you aided the Empire,” Aldernon added. “Something that I find verges on the criminal. Am I right?”

Farathorn took the paper, read it slowly then turned and faced him. There was anger in those eyes, his voice cold as he said “And what if were to tell you that this ‘F’ could refer to someone else? That it wasn’t me? Certainly there were times when, in the past, it was known that Mi’a was, indeed, used to create such events. That Mi’a can be used as a weapon as well as for good. Now, though, I also have to tell you that we can not be sure that anyone ever used Mi’a in that way during the Imperial Wars. Certainly no one trained here, in Anatha Em Lanie was ever involved in such practices.”

Aldernon looked at him, seeing something that gave the lie to what the man said and shook his head, slowly. “No. It was you, you who helped the Empire spread beyond their borders, you and others from this place. Am I not right?”

Farathorn sighed deeply. “I was very young, foolish. Not that I have the powers necessary to cause earthquakes, nor ever did. The man who did that was far more powerful than any of us here today. Believe me.”

“Believe you? Possibly. But you were there, were you not? Acting for the Empire? Helping in the destruction that they caused, the deaths that swept across the northern areas, the lives completely and utterly ruined by what the Empire became. You and others like you, using your Mi’a, your talents, to bring that evil into the world, an evil so corrupt that it taints the very earth they walk upon!”

“Alright, I was there!” Farathorn hissed. “But only as a youth, an apprentice to the mages who served the Empire. Afterwards I walked away from them, disgusted by what I saw. Does that make me the criminal you believe me to be?”

“I believe it does. The Empire is a cruel and massive evil that should never have been allowed to come into existence,” Aldernon almost spat the words. “You could have done more to stop it. How many more here took part? Josia? Othyan?” Farathorn twitched and Aldernon knew, in that instant, that he’d hit a nerve. “It was Othyan, wasn’t it? Despite his arguments now for peace, for control, his past is not as passive as he would have everyone believe! Him and the former High Master wasn’t it? And all of you, you’re afraid. Afraid that Sharli, whose potential power is stronger than any of you, could discover your secrets and overthrow you all? Am I right?”

Farathorn stared down at his hands before turning his face toward Aldernon. “It’s a shame. Unfortunate indeed that you stumbled on something no one should know. You made such a good librarian.”

Shuddering, Aldernon wanted to get up and walk away but found he could not. He began to protest, to pull back as he felt a surge of Mi’a surround him.

“You realise of course that we can not let anyone know of the capabilities of Mi’a for evil or war, or of how some of us served the Empire,” Farathorn said coldly. “If it were known, our very existence would be threatened. I’m sorry Aldernon, but I do believe it is time for you to leave here. Once your memory of such things has ceased to be, of course.”

 

Later that day Aldernon found himself on the ferry leaving Anatha Em Lanie, his belongings in the bag beside him. Farathorn was with him, and accompanied him to the main docks at Nerily, seeing him off as Aldernon boarded a boat to Fyresh.

“Sorry you decided that Nerily wasn’t to your liking. Still, I wish you well in Fyresh, such a good choice for one with your healing abilities. Good luck, and have a pleasant journey,” said Farathorn, waiting until the gangplank was lifted up and the boat set sail. Aldernon waved him farewell then headed below to his cabin. It was, indeed, for the best. The nerian were not to his liking, he was tired of fish, his Mi’a was virtually non-existent and the isles were not somewhere he wished to settle. Farathorn had been good to him though, providing a letter of introduction and references to the Magister of Harra Haven. Somehow it seemed good to be on his way, and Aldernon looked forward to his new life.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Othyan paced the large study within the Hall of Mi’a, his face grim. “Urrath was more fool than I had ever imagined. You’ve destroyed the letter, of course?”

“Yes, replied Farathorn. “I’ll need to search that library far more carefully before letting anyone else in there.”

“Of course, of course,” Othyan said, wringing his chubby hands. “We have to keep this quiet. If any of the others found out…”

Farathorn nodded, leaning back in the armchair by the window. “Josia especially. It’s a good job my study, and yours, are so heavily warded and shielded from prying eyes.”

Othyan nodded, walking to the chair near to Farathorn and settling himself down before pouring red wine into two glasses. He handed one to the Essantian then took a large sip from the other before saying “And the fool thought Josia was involved! Shows how little he knows.”

Farathorn chuckled. “Absurd, to think that old nerian could even consider such actions. Just as well he was only a babe at the time otherwise we’d never have been able to hide from him what happened.”

“Indeed. Josia can be rather intractable as well as overly righteous in his views. Still, Aldernon is sorted and won’t cause us any further problems. However, it still leaves us with Sharli.”
“Why should she be a problem?” shrugged Farathorn. “She knows nothing, of that I’m sure.”

“She may get upset about Aldernon’s sudden departure,” answered Othyan before taking a bite from a honey-cake.

“Possibly,” Farathorn answered. “But she’d have been an even greater problem if Aldernon had told her what he’d discovered.”

“You sure he didn’t?”

“Positive. I did a thorough search of his memories before erasing those he didn’t need. There was something, a conversation the night before, that he’d had with Sharli, about the peaceful nature of Mi’a. I think that’s what triggered Aldernon to search more carefully,” Farathorn confided. “She seems to be worrying that what she did before we found her was wrong.”

“Something we can use to our advantage, perhaps, if necessary. To point out to her how dangerous uncontrolled fire or chaos can be. But we’re going to have to be careful with her. If she becomes aware of how strong she really is, and her anger is turned upon us, I dread to think what would happen.”

“Is she strong enough to over power you?”

Othyan shrugged. “Perhaps. But not skilled enough. Nor is she likely to come into contact with me much. I have no intention of teaching her anything. Or getting close enough for her to sense my underlying powers. Not that she could. My wards have never been penetrated before and I don’t see that they will be now. Not after all these years.”

Farathorn nodded, sipping his wine. “Still she’ll have to be watched.”
“Of course. Josia and Hadathyr are her current teachers, are they not?”

“Yes. Although I still give her the occasional lesson, not that she really needs it. She learns remarkably quickly. Her reading skills are almost up to those of the nerian who’ve been taught since they were children. But her language abilities are lacking. She knows nothing yet of other languages apart from common. Nothing of the Ancient tongue. I doubt that she’s even heard of it.”

“Don’t teach her. Let her remain ignorant of that,” announced Othyan. “If she were to master it I dread to think of where that could lead. Imagine, if she could read their scrolls and parchments!”

“My thoughts exactly,” Farathorn said. And he leaned back in the chair, finishing his wine as the sun set.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Sharli stood outside the Hall of Healing shaking her head.

“Impossible,” she muttered as the student in the white robe shrugged.

“I saw him go,” the young nerian told her. “With a bag all packed. He was with Farathorn, headed for the ferry.”

“But we were to meet, go to the tavern. I can’t believe he’d just leave without telling me!”

The student shrugged again. “Well, he did. Anyway, I’m heading back to my room, it’s late.”

“Yes, thank you,” Sharli murmured as he left her. Aldernon gone? She still couldn’t believe that he’d go, not without some sort of note or explanation. She wiped a tear from her eye then made her way toward the canal and the pier where the ferry moored. She’d waited for him as planned, having hardly been able to concentrate on anything much that day. All she’d thought of was him – his smile, his face, his eyes, his kiss. The thrill that had gone through her body feeling him close. Tonight she’d been expectant, looking forward to having him hold her, to being with him.

But he hadn’t come. She’d gone looking for him in the tavern then wandered back to the Hall of Healing where she’d stopped the student as he was going in. She still could not take in his words. “He’s gone.”

Why? It made no sense. He was happy here, he had a job in the library and he was learning what he wanted. And she thought that he had wanted to be with her too. The pier was deserted but she stood there for a long time. Was there a way to use her Sight, to find him? If only she knew more, perhaps it would be possible. Or if not, maybe Josia would help her.

At that thought Sharli turned and wandered slowly back toward the Hall of Mi’a. The rain started to fall heavily again but she ignored it, despite the chill in her body/ By the time she reached the entrance hall her hair was dripping, her jacket soaked. The place was deserted and she headed straight back to her room where she draped the jacket over the back of the chair to dry and dried her hair with a towel whilst sitting on the bed, thinking. Could she trust Josia? The healer student had told her that Farathorn had been with Aldernon, that the Essantian had come down the stairs from the residential rooms with him, and together had crossed over toward the pier. Somehow Farathorn was behind Aldernon’s decision to leave, Sharli was sure of it. And if he was involved, how many other Eda’lanaz were in league with him? She shook her head. Was she being paranoid? Had Farathorn just been helping Aldernon? A friendly gesture? Yet somehow it didn’t ring true, didn’t sound right. Why? Why had he gone?

The question and her unease continued to nag at her all that night. When sleep eventually came her dreams were restless, filled with images of Aldernon under attack, black clouds surrounding him, thunder pounding him, his skull being shattered. She woke, sitting bolt upright, drawing the blankets around her as she shivered. Something was wrong, she knew. Tears streamed down her face, her thoughts swirling, her emotions in turmoil as rain lashed the window. Eventually, exhaustion won and Sharli succumbed to sleep once more.

It was late morning when she woke to a knock on the door. Sleepily Sharli dragged herself from the bed and draped the blanket around her as the knock came again.

“Coming,” she mumbled drawing back the curtain before heading for the door and unlatching it.

“You ok?” Bethrin looked concerned. “We missed you at breakfast and you seemed distraught when you came into the tavern last night. Any sign of Aldernon?”

“No,” Sharli answered, vaguely remembering having asked him in the tavern if he’d seen Aldernon. “I’m not dressed, but… I appreciate your concern. A bad night, didn’t sleep well at all.”

“You don’t look good,” the targ answered. “Can I help at all?”

Sharli considered briefly then nodded. “Come in, I’ll tell you what I know. Just forgive my appearance.”

Bethrin smiled, slipping in quickly and shutting the door behind him as Sharli crossed back to the bed, wrapping the blanket even tighter around her as she curled up at one end, her back against the wall, as Bethrin sat on the chair.

“So, where is he? I didn’t see him at breakfast either.”

“He’s gone.”

“Gone? That doesn’t seem right,” Bethrin said. “He was happy here, wasn’t he?”
“I thought so,” Sharli answered then told him what the student healer had told her.

Bethrin shook his head. “You think Farathorn had something to do with Aldernon leaving?”

Sharli shrugged. “I don’t know what to think, Bethrin. All I know is that I’m sure he wouldn’t have just gone, not without saying something to me. A note at least.”

“There was nothing?”

“No,” Sharli shook her head. “I’m sorry, I must look awful, hardly slept and when I did I had nightmares of Aldernon being attacked by something dark, of his skull being shattered.” She sniffed, hating herself for showing her emotions so openly but unable to stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

Bethrin crossed over to the bed, put his hand on her arm. “Hey, I understand. You liked him, he was your friend. Perhaps more, from what we’d seen.”

Sharli looked up him, wiped away her tears. “I thought so. You were in the tavern most nights, you and Tiggen, weren’t you?”

“Yes, we saw you both together. He seemed pretty enamoured by you,” Bethrin grinned before frowning once more. “I can’t believe he’d go without telling you either. Look, we both have a free morning, what’s left of it. How about you get dressed and we go see Josia.”

“Can we trust him?” Sharli asked.

“He’s the only one I’d trust,” answered Bethrin.

Sharli looked at him in surprise. “You don’t trust the Eda’lanaz?”

Bethrin glanced around the room almost as if to check that no one was listening, his voice a whisper as he answered “Not really. We’re outsiders too, I guess, me and Tiggen. Targ don’t trust strangers easily, it seems part of our nature. I should trust Hadathyr, him being another targ, but even he makes me feel uncomfortable. He’s been here too long, is too much a part of Anatha as we call it. You know he’s about 140 years old, don’t you? One of the youngest, too.”

“I’d guessed they were all much older than they look. There’s a weave of Mi’a around each of them. I think they use it to makes themselves seem younger than they are. All but Josia. He seems almost proud of his age.”

“Agreed, although I can’t sense that weave you see,” Bethrin looked impressed. “But yes, only Josia looks his age. I had read that the Mi’a keeps people young, holds aging at bay. One of the targ Ore-Seekers, he admits to being 112, but only looks about 70 or so. He confirmed what I’d read. So you and me, we’re in for a long life!”

“I had wondered,” Sharli said.

“Anyway, I’ll let you get dressed, I’ll meet you outside when you’re ready,” Bethrin said as he rose and walked over the door. “We have to trust one of them, if we’re to discover more. Josia seems our best bet. I’ll fetch Tiggen too, the more of us to witness what is said, the better, I think.”

Sharli nodded. “Thank you, Bethrin. I appreciate it.”

The targ smiled. “Outsiders together, Sharli. This disappearing act puzzles me too, I’d spoken to Aldernon several times in the tavern of an evening. Like you, something about his leaving just doesn’t right.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Bethrin and Sharli found Josia at his home on the edge of Anatha. Tiggen, it seemed, had been unwilling to get involved, something that had obviously upset Bethrin. Sharli hadn’t been surprised when the targ told her about his brother refusing to come, commenting that perhaps it was for the best. If things went wrong she would feel bad enough about Bethrin being involved and she didn’t really know Tiggen at all.

Josia had answered their knock and shown them in, obviously curious as to their visit. Students weren’t encouraged to call on any of the Eda’lanaz in their homes. But he’d seemed genuinely surprised when Sharli explained that Aldernon had left, without leaving any message, and that she’d had a dream that seemed to indicate he was in danger. She left out what she knew, that Farathorn had been seen escorting Aldernon to the ferry. For some reason she thought it best not to tell him. But the old nerian quickly hid his astonishment, instead leading them into the study of his house. It was a small room with windows and a balcony that overlooked the pool and the forest. At the centre of the study was a large crystal mirror within an ornate dark stone frame that hung from the ceiling, the decorative silver chain links that held it hardly seeming strong enough to support the weight. Yet they did and Sharli surmised that Mi’a was somehow involved to give the chains the strength that was required. Two armchairs with lace throws worked in cream and purple stood facing the mirror, a low table partially covered with books between them, whilst a dark wood desk with an upright matching chair stood by the wall furthest from the door. A jug of water, glass and a plate of biscuits indicated that Josia had been working there before they’d arrived.

Josia indicated that they should sit in the armchairs as he stood in front of the misted mirror. “We can at least try to see where he is,” he told them as they settled down. “It may take some time though, and the image may not be clear as I don’t have a firm memory of Aldernon. Any idea what he was wearing?”

“From what the student told me, he was wearing the clothes he had on when he arrived here – the dark green trousers and tunic, white jerkin and grey hooded cloak.”

Josia nodded. “Yes I remember. I’ll focus on how I remember him then from when we first met. Silence now, please, I’ll do what I can.”

The mirror shimmered as Josia focused on Aldernon. Sharli watched and waited and hoped that he was alive and well. Her dreams had worried her. Had he been attacked? Was he in danger?

Slowly a vague image appeared. Rough seas. A storm lashing a vessel. Lightning sparking across a dark sky. There were no sounds to the Seeing and it seemed distant, out of focus. The vessel became larger as Josia obviously focused upon it. Tossed around by huge waves that lashed the boat, a mast suddenly fell and crashed down upon the deck, wood splinters flying into the air. There seemed to be figures flung aside, others pulling on ropes, yet others struggling to hold on to the railings. For a brief moment Sharli thought she saw Aldernon but it was impossible to be certain. And then the mirror went blank and Josia sagged, Bethrin the first to leap up and hold him whilst Sharli fetched a glass of water, handing it to the nerian after Bethrin had lowered him into the chair.

Josia took the glass and drank, his hands shaking. Sharli exchanged a worried glance with Bethrin, neither daring to say a word. Finally the nerian spoke.

“It seems he is on a ship, as you saw. A Seeing like that one, where there are storms or dangers nearby, are difficult to hold, even more difficult to decipher. But I think it’s clear, Sharli, that Aldernon is aboard that ship.” He paused, breathing deeply. Somehow he looked older, more fragile. Sharli knelt by his side and held his arm, waiting for the nerian to recover fully whilst Bethrin got the plate of biscuits, offering them to Josia. He took one with a nod and ate, first one and then another. Eventually he turned to Sharli and said “Why he’s there, I don’t know. But he’s on that ship, I’m sure of it. Which still leaves us with the puzzle of why he left. I’m sorry, Sharli, that I can’t help you more.”

“Thank you, anyway, for what you have shown me. I now know the reason for my dreams – the thunder and lightning that had me tossing much of the night.”

“You saw him, in the storm?”

Sharli nodded, realising that she hadn’t actually told Josia what the dream had been about. “It felt as if he was being attacked, by something dark that seemed to shatter his skull. There was thunder and lightning though as well. When you See…” she paused, afraid to ask. But the need to know overcame her fear and she continued “Do you ever sense those who are dead?”

Josia shook his head. “No. But his life thread seemed fragile, faint. Which is why… I don’t know, Sharli. Tomorrow I can try again but such a Seeing, it’s draining. If he lives, then I should be able to track him. If he’s unconscious though, I won’t be able to find him. It will be as if he is dead. But I will try for you, and let you know if I discover anything. Now, though, I need to rest. And Sharli, one last thing before you go. Aldernon must have had a very good reason to leave. Perhaps he thought it best for you both. Perhaps we’ll never know.”

She nodded and left with Bethrin, the pair of them wandering away from the Hall of Mi’a and heading to the bank of the nearby pool. Neither felt like returning to the Hall of Mi’a, wanting somewhere to think without interruption. They sat beneath a huge lurriba tree, leaning against the large roots and staring out across the water, sheltering as best they could when it started raining. Luckily the drops were light, almost like a mist that swirled around the pool, dimming sound and light.

“Can we trust him? Not to tell others?” voiced Sharli.

“He’s bound to say something. To Ireesha at least. I’m not sure what we did was right, asking him,” said Bethrin. “I’m sorry, Sharli, I may have put you in danger.”

“No Bethrin, I had to know where Aldernon was, there was no-one else we could turn to. Thank you, whatever happens. It at least explains my dream. Such a storm. I never knew boats could be tossed around so much – those waves seemed huge.”

“I’ve never seen one like that either. Although the sailors on the boat that brought us here – me and Tiggen – they laughed when our boat got caught in what they termed a swell – to us it felt bad. One sailor told me he’d known waves taller than the masts. I didn’t believe him at the time. But now…” Bethrin turned to face her, eyes full of concern. “You liked Aldernon a lot, didn’t you?”

“Do,” corrected Sharli. “He has to still be alive, out there, on the sea. Or Josia wouldn’t have found him.”

“But when he lost the thread…”

Sharli put her head into her hands, refusing to believe. Aldernon was alive, he had to be. And one day, she was determined, she’d work out why he had left.

 

THIRTY-EIGHT

“You think there’s more to this, don’t you?” asked Ireesha. She was concerned by Josia’s refusal to leave his study and his pacing. He kept staring at the misted crystalline mirror but hadn’t yet tried to focus on any particular image. It was clear he wanted to but Ireesha knew that as yet Josia didn’t have the strength to do so. Not for such a Seeing as the one he wanted.

“They were both worried, both hiding something,” Josia muttered. “Sharli was distraught. It wasn’t just that Aldernon had left with no message. Nor the nightmares that had plagued her last night.” He stopped his pacing momentarily and looked over at Ireesha. “Do you realise what she did? She had a Seeing, in her dreams. Possibly even Dream-Walked, looking for him, yet she didn’t know what she was doing! I haven’t heard of anyone doing that, not since the height of the Thrazheem. And then it was only rumours that told of their incredible powers. No one, no one outside of the forests, had any evidence of that. And no one who was not born Thrazheem has ever been able to Dream-Walk. Such power…!”

Ireesha pursed her lips as her husband resumed his pacing. “Sit down, Josia, you’ll tire yourself out as well as making me dizzy watching you.”

Josia grunted but stopped when he reached the armchair and lowered himself down into it. Ireesha handed him the bowl of fruit that she’d brought up with her, pleased when her husband took a pear and started eating. She then sat in the other chair, looking at Josia as she asked “Could they be related? The Thrazheem and the Jha’hazee?”

Her husband crunched the pear thoughtfully. “Both forest peoples… we know virtually nothing of the Jha’hazee, that’s for certain. Weren’t really aware of their existence. Sometimes we overlook places like Azam, regard them with suspicion at best. But… you have a point.” Josia took another bite of pear, nodding slowly. Wiping a dribble of juice from his chin he turned to Ireesha. “You may have a point. It would explain her strength, her special abilities. What, “ he said, waving the remains of the pear in her direction, “if, they are more than linked, but the same race?” Josia sat forward, his eyes intense. “We know that the Thrazheem were originally from Essanti, according to the ancient histories.”

“Legend only,” breathe Ireesha. “Never proved.”

“No, agreed. But strong legends, recurring myths that usually have some basis in fact. The Thrazheem, according to the legends, came over to the northern continent, spreading into the forests like Whittan Forest. What if they also moved south? Into Azam?”

“But the Jha’hazee are black! The Thrazheem are not. At least, not as far as we know,” protested Ireesha.

“No,” Josia said as he leant back against the cushions. “But over time, their skin could darken. Perhaps they inter-bred with the Azeem, which may explain why not all Jha’hazee have the talent. Why in some it is stronger than in others.”

“It’s possible, I give you that,” Ireesha agreed. “And if so… Sharli has some Thrazheem blood in her veins, some of the Thrazheem powers.” She breathed deeply, her thoughts whirling. “No wonder her Mi’a is so strong. We should tell Othyan!”

“No!”

Josia’s shout was so unlike him, so adamant, that Ireesha started. “Why not?”

“I’m not sure I trust him,” Josia said slowly, his eyes piercing, as he stared into her own. “We tell no one else. Not until we know why Aldernon left. There is a puzzle to this, and I don’t like it.”

“How can you be sure he didn’t just choose to go?”

“Because I was with Hadathyr, you too, you saw them together the night before he went. Why would he leave? They were happy, in love. A man doesn’t just up and disappear without telling the one he loves why he’s going. Not even a note. It makes no sense.”

“Perhaps he was afraid, in fear of her, worried that the relationship was wrong,” Ireesha said but like Josia had no conviction in her words.

Josia shook his head. “Even so, he would have left a note telling her why he was going. Or tried to see her, to explain. A man doesn’t just suddenly go like that with no explanation to the one he loves. And there was something else that Sharli said that worries me…”

Ireesha looked at him, expectant. When his silence dragged into minutes Ireesha eventually asked “What worries you so much?”

“In her dream,” Josia explained softly “Sharli said Aldernon was attacked by darkness, his skull shattered…”

“So?” Ireesha shrugged.

“Tell no one, no one…” Josia stared at her intently until she promised. Even then he hesitated before saying “In my experience I’ve known only one Seeing where I’ve noticed a darkness around someone. As if their skull was broken, where a dark cloud covered their whole being. I sensed it, briefly, when I focused on that boat earlier. It’s what broke my concentration.” Again he paused, breathing deeply before explaining “The other person had been Mind-Warped.”

Ireesha took in breath, almost hissing. “But that… that’s completely forbidden!!! Who could have done such a thing, here?”

Josia shook his head. “That, my beloved, is what we have to find out. And why we can’t tell Othyan or anyone else of what has happened here today, of Sharli and Bethrin seeking us out, of her dreams, of our concerns. Because if we do, they could break not just her but us too.”

 

THIRTY-NINE

Sharli carefully placed the coins in her belt, thanked the market-stall owner then walked back to the Hall of Mi’a. In the last few weeks she’d made more carvings, all of which had sold, and now she had more than enough coin should she wish to leave Anatha to pay for passage on a boat. She’d discovered how much it would cost to get to Zhoresh, far enough she had decided to allow her to begin a search for Aldernon. Her queries at the docks had also revealed that the only boat to leave Nerily on the day of Aldernon’s disappearance had been going to Fyresh and she was sure that he had been on that boat. There was, however, still no clue as to why he had gone but she was convinced that Farathorn had been behind it.

Despite being careful Sharli still feared that her enquiries may have been noted, although none of the Eda’lanaz had said anything to her or changed in the way they behaved toward her. Still, she didn’t trust them, not even Josia. He had tried to locate Aldernon again but had found no trace. Or so he said. Sharli wasn’t sure that he had done so. Her dreams of Aldernon were infrequent but the last had shown him on land and she was convinced that he was now in Fyresh. The darkness that she’d first seen on that initial night still hung over him and around him, although there were no signs of storms. It was enough, though, that she knew something had been done to him, had forced him to leave. And she was more determined than ever to work out what.

Proving anything had been impossible, however. Bethrin had been trying, as she had, to learn everything of Aldernon’s last movements on the day he left. All they could work out was that he’d been to the library then walked across to the Hall of Mi’a before having been seen leaving the Hall of Healers with Farathorn. That it was Farathorn that he’d been to see was obvious to Sharli but there was no proof, no one who had seen Aldernon actually go into or out of Farathorn’s study. Sharli avoided the Essantian as much as possible, concentrating on her lessons, learning as much as she could about her own talent, slowly but surely building up her knowledge and her own strength. In the evenings she’d taken to reading avidly about all the various Mi’a talents, Bethrin sneaking books to her so that her studies remained as secret as possible. He was a dear friend and they’d formed a close bond, though not as close as the one she’d shared with Aldernon. But she let on to the other students and to any Eda’lana who was interested that she and Bethrin were a couple. As he did. They spent almost all of their free time together, hugged and even kissed in public to strengthen the illusion. It kept everyone from asking too many questions; hopefully allowing her the time she needed to complete her studies.

In classes Sharli deliberately made mistakes or fluffed the exercises. Not too much but certainly whenever they introduced a new subject or explained a concept that she wasn’t supposed to know about. Carefully woven about her mind now was a strong ward of protection although she dropped it occasionally when she felt a probe from one of the Eda’lanaz, allowing them to see what she thought they wanted to discover. Her thoughts, though, Sharli kept well hidden. If they saw it, then let them think it was due to some innate power, some talent that gave her a wall without her realising. And she had learned, too, to subdue her Mi’a when necessary, making it seem less powerful than it actually was. It was like dimming lights, part of her growing control over the Mi’a within her. If she allowed it full access she knew that any Eda’lana who came into contact with her would see it and that would lead to discovery of the strength of her power.

Bethrin, she felt sure, knew that she was much stronger than any of the other students. Yet he still remained faithful. He was the only one she could trust but even he wasn’t aware of her plans. Those she kept secret even from him. When the time came, only then would she reveal them. And even then, it might be too late to share them with Bethrin. For that, Sharli felt uneasy. He deserved to know. But it was too risky. He hadn’t got the power to shield his thoughts. In his own field, in the Earth talents, Bethrin was strong. In others, though, he was weak, almost non-existent. For his own safety Sharli felt obliged to keep him ignorant.

Her hardest lessons were those that Farathorn took. Trying to conceal her thoughts from him and remaining calm when in his presence took all of her concentration. He hadn’t, fortunately, resumed private reading lessons. Instead she was always with other students during the Nature classes. The subject was one that fascinated her and that helped her to get through them. But she’d sense him watching her closely and felt his touch on her Mi’a often. So far he hadn’t broken her Wall, always retreating whenever he touched it, almost as if that is what he’d been looking for. She tried never to let him know that she sensed his probings, concentrating hard instead on the exercise that he’d set or on the notes he had them all read in class. Not once dare she even attempt to send out her own senses toward him but even so Sharli felt that he was much stronger than anyone. Apart from Othyan.

He too watched her closely. But he was easier to keep at bay, and he rarely probed her with his own Mi’a. He observed in other ways. If she mistakenly succeeded too quickly at a new exercise he almost jumped on her, praising her in a way that showed he’d noted how strong she actually was. More than once in the past few days she’d erred like that. Soon it would become impossible to hide her knowledge. Soon Sharli knew that she would have to make her move.

 

CHAPTER FORTY

The Day of Mid-Winter had been a fantastic celebration. It seemed to Sharli that everyone had descended upon the city for feasting, drinking and to watch the fabulous display of fireworks in the evening. Along with Bethrin, Tiggen, Yrenda and her partner Payr, a nerian student who wasn’t particularly strong in Mi’a apart from his strong empathy with the fields of Water and Weather, they’d had a great time in the water-park, ooh-ing and aah-ing at every firework as it lit up the sky. Later Sharli had returned on the ferry with Bethrin and Tiggen, sitting in the main square and staring at the full moon before eventually returning to their separate rooms.

The nerian students had all gone back to their homes and wouldn’t return for at least another two days. Without them, Anatha seemed deserted. The market place was closed as was the tavern. Only non-nerian and the Eda’lanaz remained. Sharli pulled her pack closed and slung it across her back, striding out of the room and down the corridor. Her heart beat much faster than normal but she knew the time had come. There were three Zhoreshi vessels in the docks, one of them would surely give her passage. Today, she hoped to leave Nerily. But first there was some unfinished business to attend to.

The cool breeze hit her face as she pushed open the main door and stood for a moment, adjusting to the temperature. Inside the Hall was warm, lit by fires in the huge hearths of the downstairs rooms. Their smoke seemed to heat the rest of the Hall, funnelled through twisting chimneys hidden behind the walls. Sharli had discovered them after Bethrin had explained how they worked. He seemed to have an aptitude for engineering as well as his strong talent in working with stone. She would miss him. But the note she’d left him, and the events of today that he would surely learn about, would explain that to the targ and thank him for everything. Without Bethrin, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to do what she planned.

Dawn was only just breaking as she strode across the square and into the area where the Eda’lanaz lived. Focusing on what she had to do, Sharli headed for the small house behind the Hall of Healers, laying down her pack by the gate to the garden before walking up to the door. For a moment she stood, testing the barriers that were erected around the house, carefully, gently twisting a thread here, a thread there, weakening but not breaking the ward. That would have set off alarms. No. Instead she worked to feed them into her own shield, drawing them toward her so that should anyone try to enact the house wards they’d only strengthen her own. With that done, she breathed deeply to try and stop her hand shaking, to steady her whole being, before knocking.

The sound seemed to reverberate through the whole house. After waiting for a few moments Sharli knocked again. And again. Eventually she heard steps thudding down stairs and the door flung open, the occupier’s hair still tousled, his sleeping robe crumpled. Good.

“What the hell do you want?” barked Farathorn. Despite the fact that he had only just woken Sharli sensed his shields rise. This wouldn’t be easy.

“What did you do to him? Why make him leave? What was it he knew, Farathorn, that you couldn’t allow him to tell me?”

A crooked smile crossed his face. “So, not as compliant as you made us think, eh? You almost had me believing that you’d let it lie. But you couldn’t, could you? Well, and why do you think I had anything to do with his leaving?”

“Because you were the one who escorted him out of Anatha.” Sharli declared.

Farathorn scoffed. “And you think I’d just agree with you?”

“Oh yes, you’ll tell me. You’ll also tell me why,” Sharli said, drawing on her Mi’a, her Chaos energies entwining with the Knowing as she thrust them at the Essantian.

He gasped, staggered back as she arrowed her probe deep into his mind. But he rebuffed her, tried desperately to push her away, to defend his thoughts. She felt the darkness as it built within him, knew that she was right as she struggled to strengthen her own defences and her probe. Broke the personal wards he set and plunged deep within him as he tried to activate the wards around the house. She smiled, felt her strength grow, allowed her power to envelop her.

Farathorn gasped. “What… the gods protect us!” he muttered as he collapsed onto the floor. Sharli paused, hoping that she hadn’t gone too far, dragged him into the hallway and closed the door behind her, withdrawing her probe from the semi-conscious man as he slowly came round.

Dazed he struggled to sit but Sharli pushed him back down, her foot remaining on his chest as she stared into his eyes. They glowered, not with fear, but with hatred.

“You’re an abomination!” he spat. “An evil cur. Why we ever agreed to let Josia bring you here I’ll never know.”

“So, you finally admit that you hate me,” Sharli said, trying to remain cool. “You can sense my power. So tell me, what did you do to Aldernon? Why did he leave?”

“That fool, he was reading too much. Discovered things he never should have learned. I’ll not tell you what but I can twist your mind like I did his, despite your power!”

And Sharli shuddered, darkness threatening to engulf her mind even as she put up her shield, trying desperately to cut off the dark that seemed to be enveloping her. As if in a dream she heard a voice behind her, felt a blast of cold air as the door opened. Staggering back she sensed the darkness lessen and she slammed up her walls as a force of chaos energy surged past her from Farathorn. Not at her she realised as she tried to rally, making herself take in the scene as the Essantian hissed “Damn you Josia. Should have known you’d interfere!”

The old nerian slumped to the ground but not before he cried “Now! Hit him now!”

And she did. With fire and chaos she struck out at Farathorn before he could rally his defences, stabbing the spear-like force that she produced into his heart, sundering his life-force. Then staggered back, slumping against the wall, sobbing uncontrollably as the waves of his death hit her and knocked her into darkness.

 

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Ireesha was crouched beside the prone figure of her husband as Sharli regained consciousness. She was aware first of the sobbing, sight only returning very slowly as she shakily drew herself up into a sitting position, her back against the wall.

“Oh the gods,” she muttered. “What happened?” Her head was pounding and she felt sick as she stared at the body of Farathorn, a gaping wound in his chest that was charred around the edges. Had she really done that? Killed him with fire and chaos? And what about Josia?

“Is he.. dead?” Sharli’s voice was barely more than a whisper yet Ireesha obviously heard for she turned, saying “Yes. Not by your hands, though. Farathorn killed him.”

“Oh Eshuanti, what have I done! All I wanted was the truth. I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

“Maybe not, but it was inevitable,” Ireesha answered, her voice breaking. “We’d been waiting for you to act.”

“How did Josia know? I’d told no one!”

“He’d been watching you, in the mirror,” answered the nerian. “Had set an alarm to sound when you came close to Farathorn.”

“You knew then? That he was responsible for driving away Aldernon?” Sharli was stunned. Wincing at every word she spoke, she was struggling to focus on anything that was said. Her head pounded, her throat was dry and, her whole body shook. She felt almost as if she was dying. A sound outside and a voice broke into the house, Ireesha looking up in what seemed fear. But she breathed a sigh of relief as Bethrin entered.

“Close the door, quickly,” she hissed. “Best if no one else sees.”

The targ did so, glancing from one to the other.

“How come you’re here?” croaked Sharli.

“I went up to your room, when you didn’t answer I went in, read your note. Why didn’t you say?”

“I didn’t want you involved,” Sharli whispered, putting her head into her hands. “It wasn’t meant to be like this. I never meant to kill him!”

“Shhh, you had no choice, Sharli,” Ireesha said before telling Bethrin to fetch some water. “Farathorn was never going to lie down quietly, not when threatened. He was strong, much stronger than he purported to be. Josia suspected but the Essantian’s wards were too powerful and it was too dangerous to probe them. Here, drink this.” She handed the glass that Bethrin had brought and Sharli took it, grateful that the targ had come. “Thank you,” she said as she handed the empty glass back to him. “What was that… darkness? He said something about twisting Aldernon’s mine… I think.” Sharli felt her strength slowly return but still found it hard to concentrate.

“Mind-Warp,” Ireesha announced. “It’s forbidden. Changes memories, blocks out what the caster wants to keep hidden. Can make someone compliant, turns them into a mind-slave.”
“Then… Aldernon had no choice but to leave?” gasped Sharli.

“No,” Ireesha shook her head slowly. “Sharli, can you stand yet?”

“I think so.”

“Good. You and Bethrin need to leave before anyone else discovers what has happened. Best, too, that no one finds out what really happened. It’s possible it wasn’t just Farathorn who was behind Aldernon’s disappearing.”

“But what about you?” asked Bethrin.

“I’ll be all right. This was between the two of them, neither of you were here. Understand?”

“But… no, this will put you in danger. Oh, Ireesha, I’m so sorry. Josia…”

“Gave his life to protect you. As will I, if necessary.”

“Why? I’m nothing, not worth dying for!”

“Sharli, you have only just begun. Your power is still growing. What you need to do is seek out the Thrazheem, they can teach you. We…” Ireesha bit her lip, wiped away a tear, “we believe you, the Jha’hazee, are somehow related to them.”

“The Thrazheem?” blurted Bethrin as he helped Sharli rise. “But surely they’re only legend?”

“No, they’re real enough. But so secretive they’ve become almost impossible to find.”

“Then how are we going to find them?” Bethrin asked the question before Sharli could.

“Try the forests of Thradee. All Josia’s efforts to penetrate them have failed, indicating that they are shielded. Only the Thrazheem have such power to cover a whole area with a ward to protect them from being Seen. Bethrin, can you leave as you are? Take Sharli back to your home, perhaps, first?”

Bethrin nodded. “I always carry coin and knives. We’ll need to travel to Ulla or Zhoresh, make our way by foot from there. It will be a long journey…”

“Then the sooner we leave, the better. There are three Zhoreshi boats in Nerily at the moment,” announced Sharli, turning to her friend. “Are you sure about this? I never wanted to get you into any danger.”

“I’m sure,” Bethrin said. “Ireesha, thank you.”

“You’re sure there’s nothing we can do to help?” asked Sharli as they walked toward the door.

“Just go as quickly as possible. Use one of the rowing boats, the ferry isn’t in use today. And anyway, its best if as few people as possible see you leave. Keep to the shadows. You chose your day wisely, Sharli.”

“I know a boat too, that won’t be missed. It was damaged but I’ve been repairing it secretly and hid it, just outside the main canal harbour.”

Ireesha nodded. “Well prepared then. Now, go, the two of you. I’ll wait until you’re both long gone before raising the alarm.”

Sharli thanked her then they left, stopping only long enough for her to retrieve her pack before heading to the forest behind Farathorn’s house. From there they made their way in the shadows of the trees and around the edge of the settlement, Bethrin with his arm around her for support.

“We’ll get you some food as soon as we can,” he muttered. “Did you learn anything as to why Farathorn used that Mind-Warp on Aldernon?”

“Only that he’d discovered something in the library. Read too much, Farathorn said.”

“Whatever it was, the secret died with the Essantian.”

“Perhaps. Unless Aldernon remembers.”

Bethrin grit his teeth. “You did right. To kill him.”

“Josia told me to hit him, not to kill him,” she sobbed. “I hit him too hard.”

“Perhaps. But don’t forget, Farathorn killed Josia, not you. And would have killed you next, I’m sure of it. Now, let’s concentrate on getting out of here!”

And so they threaded their way through the shadows and eventually to the canal bank where Sharli had hidden the old rowing boat. Bethrin took over then, lowering the boat into the water before helping Sharli into it. He took the oars and pushed away from the side and rowed them down the canal and out of Anatha.

 

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Ireesha had watched them leave then, ensuring that no one was around, closed the door behind and quickly returned to her own house. Her heart was breaking but somehow she managed to keep calm. It was fortunate that they were neighbours to Farathorn so that she didn’t have far to walk. Also lucky that the other Eda’lanaz had had far too much wine and other alcoholic beverages the night before ensuring that none would be up early. Their houses were much further away too, none having sight of Farathorn’s home from any windows or doors. Othyan kept to his quarters in the Hall, preferring the rooms set aside there for the use of the High Master than to his own residence. It allowed him easy access to the kitchens and the dining room as well as letting him check on the students whenever he fancied. Ireesha only hoped that he had had a good nights sleep and hadn’t noticed either Sharli or Bethrin leave. Or if he had, had thought nothing of it. He might have had more power than the rest of them but he wasn’t always smart.

Back in her own home Ireesha walked up to Josia’s study. He’d left the mirror focused on Farathorn’s house and she sat down, watching, in case anyone else approached it. The sun rose steadily, noon coming and going with no sign of life anywhere in the grounds. Yet still she sat, and waited, patient despite the gnawing pain within her. She planned her moves with precision and thought about what had happened. Knowing within her that events would have always gone exactly the same way.

They’d discussed it endlessly over the past few weeks. Josia seemed to know but had never told her, not in words, that his death was coming. As a Seer, she knew he would have checked. And last night he’d held her close in the pool, telling her time and time again how much he loved her.

Ireesha had known then that his death was close. When he didn’t join her in bed, when she’d woken as the door closed behind him just after dawn, when she’d scrambled into her clothes and checked the mirror in time to see him burst into the house, she’d known. Had watched what happened before rushing across, first checking that no one else was around.

She had witnessed Farathorn murder her beloved and the Essantian had deserved what had happened. Yet she would never tell. She would leave it to them to puzzle out. If they drew the conclusion that Josia and Farathorn had killed each other, then that would be for the best. If Othyan, or anyone else, had seen Sharli and Bethrin leave then they would all assume that they had gone long before the incident next door. Ireesha had the power to hide the actual timing of the deaths. Her skills with air had always allowed her to create illusions that none could detect.

Almost numb she waited until dusk began to draw in. With a wave of her hand she dismissed the Seeing, as Josia had taught her to do. Then she checked all was in order before leaving the house and headed for her neighbour’s home.

Her scream tore through the night and her fellow Eda’lanaz came running.

 

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Securing passage on a boat out of Nerily had been no problem. Bethrin had far more coin than Sharli and had insisted he paid for the cabin. It was small but would suffice and she didn’t complain as she realised that they would have to share the narrow bed. During the past few hours Bethrin had proved worthy of more than just her friendship, having helped her out of Anatha and rowing them both almost as far as the docks before buying provisions and scouting the docks to see what other boats were preparing to leave.

He’d ruled out any of those going to Zhoresh.

“If Ireesha does tell, or is forced to tell, then that is where they will search for us first,” he had explained. “Best we head somewhere else.”

“Where then?” she’d asked.

“Let me work out that out whilst you wait here,” he’d answered.

And so she’d sat on one of the piers, eating some of the dried fish and bread that he’d bought, grateful to him for all that he’d done. Whilst she ate and waited for his return she’d also considered how she felt now, now that Farathorn was dead and she’d escaped from the clutches of the Eda’lanaz. Somehow it had always been destined. She thought briefly of the Fates that Aldernon believed in, wondering if it had been the Fates that had led to his departure and to her actions. Had it all been pre-arranged? She hoped it had not for that would mean that anything she did was bound to have happened, all set out from the day she was born. That she should be going down a path already mapped out made her shudder. What if she wanted to choose a different way? It wasn’t a nice thought. Sharli had always felt a strong sense of will that everything she did was of her own choosing. No, the Fates could never be decided before hand.

As for Josia, she regretted his death. Yet she knew he had chosen it. To save her. And why? What had Ireesha said? That her power was still growing? That Josia had been prepared to risk his life for her? She shook her head, numb at the thought. What had he Seen of her future that had made him believe his death was worth the price for her to survive?

Her thoughts were broken by Bethrin as he strode toward her. “We’re in luck,” he announced. “There’s a boat leaving on the tide for Ihath’dia, in Ulla. Two of the Zhoreshi boats will be leaving as well, so hopefully that will put anyone off the search for us.”

“Ulla?” asked Sharli, scrambling to her feet. “Will it be near enough for you to return home?”

Bethrin shrugged. “Possibly. But I won’t. Look Sharli, I’ve said I’ll come and get you safe to Thradee. If I were to go back into Tarrigdee and the Eda’lanaz somehow turned up there, I’d be putting you in danger. No. Best we avoid anywhere that’s obvious. I’ll get you to these Thrazheem, and then decide what to do. Now hurry, not much time to get on board.”

And so the two of them stood on the deck of the Flying Fish, watching as the sun set over Nerily and the boat sailed away from Neriadeem. Sharli had her head on Bethrin’s shoulder, his arm holding her close as she whispered “Thank you Bethrin. For everything.”

“Sharli, I’d do anything for you,” he replied softly.

“I know. And I love you for it.”

 

THE END OF PART ONE