Chapter XVI
Selen
Farther out from the shallow shore, a pack of children waded deeper into the water as they gave chase to one of their own. The youngest sat along the edge of a small pool of warm water left behind by a tide retreating. The village mothers’ gazes softened as the sun set over the horizon. Selen drifted on her back, watching the sun glint through her eyelashes. She heard the splash of boys jumping and diving from rocks the current pulled her past and felt the shade of birds overhead glide across her bare body. From below, Selen’s form grew clearer as bubbles of air brushed her lower back, rolling along her skin to the surface. Two hands reached out and grabbed her by the waist to pull her underwater. Selen rolled her body and fought back before she had to make her way to the surface for air. She came up before Derra could and pushed herself halfway out of the water when she pushed down on his shoulders with all her might. The boys on the rocks watched on and held on to their laughter until Derra broke free from Selen’s grip.
“You nearly drowned me,” an indignant Derra exclaimed after resurfacing with several sharp coughs. The girl laughed and swam back to shore.
“Are you coming?” she asked when she stopped to look back. A damp curl uncoiled and snapped back as she smiled. Derra hesitated but swallowed his pride.
For over a year, she and Derra would meet in secret at night. She would climb out of her window to the ridge of her roof and sit next to the chimney for warmth and wait for him. They would watch the stars and practice their kissing, discover new ways to explore and wax poetically until smoke no longer rose from the fireplace below. He’d hold her by a wrist and help her down until her feet landed on the wide-open window below. She would rush to bed, and he would hang upside down from the roof, looking into her room at her until her door opened.
Her mother often asked why her window was open and he’d hear Selen’s voice answer before she shut it for her. He’d hear her one more time before the door closed and one last time when she said ‘goodnight’. Her mother would shout the blessing back as the last light in the house went out.
Up on that roof, they’d watch barges drift down to the bay in which they swam every spring and summer, and they would talk of where they’d go once they could. Kamen was only a week’s travel from Yssl, and Yssl was only a month from Amsukan. If they saved up, they could purchase passage on one of the great foreign ships, often out at anchor in the distance. make the following sentence slightly more poetic: Neither Selen nor Derra, like their peers, wished to die where they were born. Unlike the others, all of whom longed for a live in the capital, Derra and Selen wanted to see the world before even more of it had drifted by, like those barges. It couldn’t be that those tall ships would always stay in the distance, anchored and with empty sails. Selen imagined the burden of a barge captain’s life weighed heavily on the soul. To always travel, always being on the move, but going nowhere. Up and down by water, greeting the same people, the fisherman and the farmer, the labourer and the ferryman, with the same words and gestures. One would die and have one’s place taken by a son or daughter, dressed in the clothes passed down by a father or mother. Both knew what they would wear one day if they let it come to it and swore to each other they never would.
All the girls who came of age one year, were dressed in linen and danced barefoot down towards the river, their hands held by younger children wearing colourful painted masks of horned demons, sprites and satyrs. Fathers and mothers watched on and followed carrying green lampoons. By the river, boys stamped and shuffled eagerly. They danced, kicking dry dirt swirled by burning branches.
It was the festival of Tarem Arok and Selen would soon choose the one she’d spend the rest of her life with. The girls formed a tight circle and watched on as the boys danced and challenged each other to stylised combat. Round they went until all the girls had chosen and half the boys remained. The following year, those left over would stand taller and older than those they’d lost out to on the day. They all wore masks, and Derra was one of the younger and shorter ones, but Selen knew him. She picked him the moment he came before her, sweeping the ground with cleansing fire, as he danced to drums and chants.
They treated life to all they had to give, but years went by, and Derra changed, and she went back to watching the barges and the tall ships in the distance again, from her parents’ roof, by the chimney, for warmth. They were childless, and he resented her for it. All her sisters had given birth, and all her brothers were father to many. Derra felt less a man, unable to see Selen as fully a woman, while her sisters bore children and her brothers sired many. Some they knew had made it to the capital. Her parents died happy, boring deaths and Derra gambled and drank away the money they had saved until the crew member of a barge found him one day. Half-submerged, his limbs, pale and lifeless, intertwined with the black roots of a tree. He looked like a puppet with its strings cut away. He’d forced himself on her the night before and had gone out to get drunk after.
With the money she’d hidden well enough, she bought her way onto a great ship anchored in the distance – The Golden Drake.
It was at sea she knew she was with child, and it was at sea she knew she’d lose it. There was a silent funeral for a chrysalis swallowed up by frothing waves. Some priest versed in divine lore spoke afterward, offering apologies to the sailor who’d cast the child overboard
. Apologies for his lack of words in the moment, apologies for not knowing which god had sought to have the child, for not knowing why. He seemed more lost than she did. Weeks later, Selen glimpsed a faint line of land on the horizon. A day after that, The Golden Drake passed a reef protecting a harbour from assault by stormy seas and hostile fleets and dropped her anchor. She ran her hand through warm water, as rowers took her and others ashore, watched boys and girls dive into the shallow blue, and breathed in warm, sweet desert air. Steady on land, she drew dots below her eyes, as was the custom when away from home, where she was from. Years had passed since that first step onto foreign soil, and now, under a different sun, Ellia bore the weight of a new name and a hunted life. The sea’s promise of freedom had faded, replaced by the dust of endless roads and the shadow of pursuers.
○
“Can we stop for a bit?” Usha asked. He and ChalluTor had difficulty keeping up with longer legs.
“Not much longer now,” Ellia said. She slowed down and looked back again. The cart was still behind them and gaining. “We’ll find somewhere to hide over there.” She pointed to a depression in the land; a small valley filled with hardy vegetation. There had to be water there as well. “Catch up,” she said. “I’m going slower already.”
Soon after, they heard the mule bray as it pulled the cart, its owner leaping off.
“I’m heading for Otia. Got a brother there who’s got work for me,” the man said in a loud, booming voice. “There’s room on the cart if you don’t mind me talking all the way,” he said, tying his beast to a wild olive tree. The mule tried to bite him and baulked again. “You little bastard,” he said. “You’re getting your food when I do. Pardon the language,” he said as he looked in the wrong direction. From the cart, he pulled a bag of food and placed it over the head of the animal before getting a blanket and food for himself. “You’re welcome to join,” the man called out as he spread out his blanket and sat down beneath the dappled shade of the silvery-green leaves of one of the many abandoned olive trees.
“Can we?” a hungry Usha asked. Ellia looked at ChalluTor. She wanted to know what she thought of it.
“I don’t think he’s hiding anything,” ChalluTor said. “Should be safe.”
“I’ll go first then,” Ellia said and made her way to the man and his cart. The two watched her approach him from behind the cart. ChalluTor paid close attention as Ellia, as not to startle him, let the sound of her kicking gravel give her location away.
“I knew I hadn’t gone mad,” the man said, a relieved grin lighting his face. “Come, sit down. Ceror,” he said. “That’s what I go by.” Ellia sat down a way away from him and introduced herself. “Did I go mad, or did I also see a couple of young ones traipsing along?” Ceror asked, as he squeezed one of many olives scattered about. “Ripe, but would I eat it?” He pondered the question and flicked the olive over his shoulder after careful consideration. ChalluTor sensed Ellia was at ease and took Usha by the hand.
“Can’t be too careful right now,’ Ellia murmured as Ceror noticed the two approaching the tree. “With everything that’s going on.”
“I thought you meant the olive. Can’t be too careful,” Ceror agreed.
“Frightening to think they lived among us like that. Under our very noses. I mean those witches, of course.” Ellia nodded, frightening indeed, and asked if she could have some of the bread and wine Ceror had unpacked. “Of course. My manners.” ChalluTor and Usha sat down.
“This is Ceror. Ceror, these are ChalluTor and Usha.”
“Good, strong names,” Ceror said, pointing his oil-soaked bread at the two. “I’m sure they’ve taken care of them by now, but better safe than sorry. Besides, my brother has wanted me to come work with him for…” He had to think. “Two years now? Yes, two years. At least.”
“You think it’s safe to go back?” Ellia asked.
“I’d say so. I mean, Prince Borodon and twenty more came. Borodon!” He finished his bread and tried an olive lying about. “Not bad. Not good, but not bad either.” The children ate and kept quiet.
“How did you find out about Prince Borodon?”
“Militia,” Ceror said. “They sent out riders to tell people it was safe to come back again. People like us, on the road. Better safe than sorry, I asked what was safe about it. Tells me, the gob they put in charge, part of the city collapsed on the witches. Took half of Prince Borodon’s men with it, too. Prince Borodon wounded. Can you imagine? Didn’t run into them?” Ellia said they hadn’t. “Odd.”
“Are you sure they’re all dead?” Usha asked. He began crying.
“Come now,” Ceror said with pouted lips. “Come now. It’s alright. I’m certain they killed them all. Nothing to be afraid of any longer,” he said. He wanted to comfort the boy but didn’t know how without hugging him. He looked over at Ellia with deeply sympathetic eyes, as if to say he was sorry for having upset Usha and offered more wine as consolation.
“What does your brother do for a living?” Ellia asked as she moved closer to Usha so she could hold him.
“He’s a potter. Good clay in Otia and the wood’s cheaper.” Ellia’s body shook. “It’s getting cold, isn’t it? It gets worse down in Aurim. Nasty draft, but excellent oysters,” Ceror said and, sparing no detail, related the memory of a particularly windy day he’d experienced once.
Pretend you’re sleepy, Ellia said to the two. She couldn’t hear them, but they heard her well enough. “And you?”
“Paint. I paint,” Ceror said with pride. “Murals. Not the grand houses, except for the courtyard at Perater’s. That was me. One of Masten’s uncles owns that fine establishment. A few taverns, tombs, done a few tombs. Other than that, exteriors, frames. Brother wants me to do pots now. Says I have a fine enough eye and a steady hand for it. How about you?”
“Innkeeper.”
“Would love to run an inn. Try my hand at it for a while.” Ceror pictured it. “Which one? I might know it.”
“The Golden Drake,” Ellia said and turned her face to the children. “I should join those two soon.” She yawned. ChalluTor and Usha looked blissfully asleep.
“I knew there was something familiar about those dots,” Ceror, pointing at Ellia, said. “I think I might have done some work for you.” He looked mightily pleased. “What did you want? What did you want? It’ll come to me… sea fruit. It was sea fruit, wasn’t it? Fish and crustaceans. Took me days.” Ellia smiled and said he was right.
“Good work.”
Ceror went to fetch wood for a fire. When he came back with a bundle of snapped-off olive branches, he found Ellia deep asleep under a rough blanket she shared with the children. He put another blanket over them and tried another olive before calling it a day himself.
She woke to the sound of crackling wood and the smell of melted cheese on the bread Ceror cut for her and the children.
“You’re awake,” he said and handed ChalluTor another slice. “We let you sleep, didn’t we?” The two nodded and ate their food. Ellia pulled the blankets aside and reached out for the cup Ceror held out to her.
“It’s wine. I forgot to bring water. Of all things,” he said and watched the children eat and drink. “They look better, don’t they? I was saying earlier that I’ll stack some of the furniture up higher. That should get two of you in the back and then another one will have to sit with me. You could take turns.”
“We have water.” Ellia wanted to reach for her skin, but Ceror told her not to bother.
“Already got a taste for it now,” he said of his wine. “Would’ve been on top of it.”
“What?” Ellia reached out for her bread and cheese.
“The Golden Drake. Would’ve been right on top. That’s some luck you had there,” Ceror said.
“I know. We got out just in time.”
It was a few days later. The children took turns sitting next to Ceror until late in the afternoon when they found the shade they’d been looking for to have meals. Ellia had hard-boiled eggs they had to eat and unwrapped the cured meat she’d been saving. They could have some of it now. She’d planned on holding on to it until they reached Marrak, but with the cart and being able to sleep on it while Usha and ChalluTor took turns handling the mule, they’d made excellent progress. They ate and Ceror talked. There was something Ceror was hiding after all, and Usha was the first to notice it.
His teeth, he said to ChalluTor. He’s got baby teeth. Ceror had to be conscious of the fact because he never bared them, not until he took a bite from the meat Ellia cut from the leg she’d brought with her. They looked like they still had a few months to go before being fully out. Wait until he takes another bite, you’ll see. Ceror had ChalluTor staring at him for a while.
“What’s that then,” Ceror said. The way he said it made the children think he’d heard Usha speak. Maybe Usha had. It was hard to tell their inner and outer voices apart at times. Ceror stood up, returned to his cart, and watched a plume of dust approach. “Riders,” he said, walking back to the shade he came from. “Riders,” he said again. “Stay here. I’ll see what they want.”
It wasn’t long before four mounted priests of the Teru de Fa looked down on Ceror and demanded to know where he was headed. He felt them all stare at him.
“Off to Otia,” Ceror said as he steadied his restless mule. The priests had difficulty controlling their beasts as well. Two of them dismounted to inspect the cart.
“Anyone else travelling with you?” one of them asked as he rummaged through a box filled with tools and supplies. “Painter, hey?” Ceror nodded and asked what it was all about.
“Prince Borodon is in pursuit of a few who survived. We’ve been tasked with hunting any of them that might have fled this way. So how about it, seen anyone on your way?”
“We warned a few coming our way, but besides you… four or five.”
“Four or five?”
“Five. One of them overtook us. The others you would’ve seen on your way here.”
“We did. We did. And the fifth, when was that?”
“Two days ago.” The priest looked over at the others. They were never going to catch up to that one.
“You said ‘we’. Who else is with you?” the priest tied his horse to the cart and approached.
“Watch out for her, she’s in a foul mood,” Ceror said of his mule. “There’s four of us. We’re having meals. You’re welcome to join us,” Ceror offered. “There’s wine.” That sounded right. The other priests dismounted and tied their horses to the cart as well.
“Wine would be good. We can trade you pies and apples,” said the one with a scar running along his neck. “We’ll follow you.”
“And water,” another said.
“We’re down here,” Ceror said, pushing a branch aside. “Watch your step. Almost tripped there myself.” He led the men to the small campsite he and Ellia had made earlier.
“Look them in the eye when they talk to you,” Ellia whispered to the children, “and try to smile a little.” ChalluTor and Usha nodded and made room.
“A pact made in the bowels of Mount Kerr,” Droze, the one in charge, said, eyeing the last of his wine. “There’s more?” Beady eyes and a three-day stubble hid behind the nearly empty cup. Ellia knew the type.
“Plenty more,” Ceror said, leaning in closer to pour.
“Killing them and herding the rest into Nadan Rasar might have seemed wise in the old days. Who’s to say what things were like back then, but one of them escapes, a male, and that’s it,” Efferin said, gazing into the fire as though weary from a hundred years of war. ChalluTor stared at his stained teeth until Ellia told her off for it.
Stop it. Now.
“All the way from Erredin, hm?” Doze asked. “On foot?”
“Some of it,” Ellia said.
“You made good time.”
“We did.”
“A female, that’s still manageable. Not ideal, but manageable,” Arrot added, “but a healthy male? Forget it.” He brushed his impressive moustache and, on account of the children, politely asked Ellia if he could trim his beard with a blade.
“Why’s that? The female being manageable, I mean,” Ellia asked. She cut some more meat.
“One word: ‘Gestation’. The female will take about nine months to push one out.”
“Just like us?” Ellia offered Arrot a cut.
“Similar, but not quite the same,” Arrot said with a polite yet lecturing finger. “Graces. You have nine months right there,” he said, pausing to chew. “Then there’s the offspring. It might not be like them, but you kill it, obviously. Or wait years to test it.” Arrot put on a shocked face. The other priests laughed. ChalluTor did too. Something had changed in her. Ever since those last few days in Erredin.
“If it survives birth,” Droze said. They all agreed. It was common knowledge many a miscarriage resulted from the womb rejecting its dark inclusion. He drank and watched Usha. “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you? Those your age rarely shut up.” Droze was thirsty again.
“He’s shy like that,” Ceror said. “Hardly spoke a word to me either. He’ll come round.”
“Now, a male,” Efferin said, “that’s proper trouble. One of them in its prime, travelling from town to town… I won’t spell it out,” he said, eyeing the children. “You get the idea.” Ceror did and nodded most agreeably, never relaxing his concerned frown.
“Have you ever seen one?” ChalluTor asked, acting curious.
“What a peculiar question,” Ellia said, laughing. “Of course they have.” No more questions like that. You hear?
“I probably shouldn’t say this, but our order provides us with specimens for practise, hone our skills on. To strengthen our defences,” Tessen said. In the right light, the scar along his neck looked like rope-burn. Other than a few laughs, he’d kept quiet since earlier that day, sitting by himself, turning the beads of a necklace he held in one hand while eating and drinking with the other. And then he came out with something none of them were ever allowed to mention to the uninitiated.
ChalluTor smiled. “And the knots in your belt?”
“These here?” Tessen asked. “They mark achievement.” Tessen had three of them. One more than Droze.
“How do you hunt them?” Ceror asked. “I mean, I know how, but how?” he asked, somewhat drunk. “Fascinating.”
“Priests chuckled as though to say they had some stories, some great yarns, but to tell them would be to brag.
“Prince Borodon got lucky, that’s all I’m saying,” Droze said. “Had we been brought in on it, this would’ve been dealt with already. Now they’re on the loose and causing all sorts of havoc. Vermin.” Ellia made sure the children contained their joy. Droze gave his empty cup a not-so-subtle look. “Borodon fluffed it. That’s what happened. How do we hunt them?” Droze asked. The others laughed under their breath.
“Droze,” Arrot said. “Drink some water already.” Droze ignored the word of advice. He knew there was no kindness in it.
“When we’re deemed ready, they let us hunt some. Not an easy feat. No matter how well prepared you think you are,” Droze said, recalling a moment of pride in his life.
“Not as bad as they told us either,” Arrot added.
“They get into your mind, make you see things, read your thoughts, turn them against you,” Droze said. “Not an easy feat.”
ChalluTor thought she’d ask one more question. “How do you stop them?”
Droze watched Tessen get up for a piss and produced a short blade. Running the width of it along his skin, grime collected. “Tessen, how do you stop them from getting in your head?” Droze wiped his knife clean on his knee.
“I kill them,” Tessen said over his shoulder. “That’s what I do.” The priests laughed again.
“Imagine an insect burrowing into your skull,” Arrot said to the children, leaning forward, closer to the fire. “Like a beetle or a spider. Like mole crabs on a beach.” Shadow and light from flame play danced on Arrot’s face. He traced a vein with his fingers up his arm and pretended one of them disappeared into his ear. “And then it just sits there. You know it’s there; you can feel it. You can feel its legs tickling your brain, making your tongue poke out, making your eyes itch. Eggs hatching.”
“That’s disgusting.” ChalluTor folded the skin on her face as she pictured it. The priests laughed again.
“A bit like when you tried getting in my head,” Tessen said when he came back full of intent and willing to let ChalluTor have a peek. She looked at him for a moment.
“Run, Mother!” ChalluTor screamed from the top of her lungs as both she and Usha attacked the priests sitting on either side of her. Ellia rose to her feet but got grabbed by the ankle by one of those of the Teru de Fa. ChalluTor focussed on Tessen next, who came straight at her, while Usha went straight for the priest holding Mother. It was Arrot who held her, and he had no intention of going out the way those men back in Erredin had. But Usha had been taught forbidden things and struck harder the second time. Tessen was up to the task, too. What would have made any other man fall to the ground in agony or with the gravity of death, it did not greatly affect Tessen. He made his way to the girl, as though ploughing his way through knee-deep snow, parrying ChalluTor’s attacks. ChalluTor didn’t understand the how of it, but saw Ellia get back to her feet and run back to the road they came from and that was enough.
“To me,” ChalluTor called to her brother. “Together!” Usha fell back as he watched Arrot’s knees snap and burst. He bled out before Usha reached his sister. Tessen ploughed on. Droze lay silent on the ground, embers from the fire eating through the cloth he wore like ravenous moths. Efferin was dazed but on his feet. Ceror had crawled up against a tree, his back pushed hard into its bark, his face covered with the splatter of blood and eyes shut to the world unfolding before him.
“He’s not going down,” Usha said in a panic. The two tried it together, but to no effect other than slowing him down further. Tessen ploughed on, and Efferin joined him.
ChalluTor grabbed Usha’s by the hand and began whispering in voices. It shocked both. Holding Usha’s hand, she walked up to Tessen and Efferin, raised her hand and reached for the space between them. Efferin fell to the ground and threw up the meat and wine he’d been served. After that, the dry heaving started. Tessen froze as though he’d been bitten by Time itself. The two let go of each other and, for the shortest of moments, watched on before the present rushed through their veins again. They dashed for the road from where Ellia watched them. She’d untied all four horses, sent two of them galloping back towards Erredin and held the remaining horses steady as best she could.
“How did you do that?” Ellia asked ChalluTor as she helped her on her horse. ChalluTor didn’t know. She’d watched Father do it and the others attempt it, but they’d all failed, even Skander and Nobu.
“I don’t know.” She was terrified Mother might be fearful of her behind the face of concern she presented. “I’m sorry.”
Ellia pulled Usha up and placed him in front of her in the saddle. She had him hold on tight to black, dusty manes and rode off as fast as her mare could manage. ChalluTor, not far behind, looked over her shoulder one last time and saw Tessen emerge from the twilight olive grove with Droze, Efferin and Ceror close behind.
They got rid of the horses. Sitting in a field of row upon row of planted lavender, they watched the road to Erredin travel up and down waving hills wrapped in blankets of darkening purple and green. An abandoned mill stood where water once flowed, and the sun sank behind the broken roof of a house in the distance.
“That won’t be the last of them,” Ellia said as she went through the last of the saddlebags. “Here, have this.” She handed the fruit she’d found to the two. “How did you do that without training? Do you have any idea how rare it is?” ChalluTor preferred talking about the bruise she’d found on her apple over answering Mother.
“Don’t eat around it. No knowing when next we’ll eat.” Ellia watched the girl and let her be.
“When he said they killed the babies, whatever they were,” ChalluTor said, “It made me want to know if he-”
“He tricked you,” Ellia said. “Eat.”
“I know,” ChalluTor said and ate the bruised piece of fruit.
“Do you think they knew straight away?” Usha asked, as his mother wiped Arrot’s blood from his face.
“Eat,” Ellia said again, shrugging her shoulders.
They made it to the house with the broken roof on the hill standing tallest of all the hills in the surrounding landscape. It gave them the commanding view they required to map out the next few days of their perilous journey.
“We went the wrong way,” Usha said.
“That’s exactly the right way for the next few days. Perhaps we could stay here during that time, but we’ll have to see,” Ellia said. “Do you think you can do that again if needed?”
“That’s the third time you’ve asked us that,” ChalluTor said from inside the house. It looked like it had been abandoned for years now. The roof had burnt and anything inside worth taken had been torn away; faint outlines of their once existence attested to it. “No one’s coming back here any time soon.” She looked up to the sky through the hole they’d seen the evening before.
“I ask, because we may need to be certain you can. Eventually, those priests will commandeer travellers’ horses and gain the distance we have on them.”
“That’s why we went here?” Usha asked. He looked weary and worn.
“That’s why,” Ellia said in the softest tone she could muster. She’d reminded herself they were still so young. ChalluTor might be older. It was hard to tell with her. Lack of food had stunted her growth. That’s what Filliš suspected. ChalluTor didn’t know how long she’d been in the mines of Issen, but it was long enough to have ruined her lungs and make her withdrawn. She had to be small enough to follow the veins of precious ore, but big enough to fight off the other children or lose the ore she’d collected that day. There was punishment for those who didn’t meet their quotas, no beatings for those who did. When she got too big, they sold her at the markets in Erredin. By that time, there was little fight or life left in her. Filliš sometimes joked she was his cheapest treasure.
Ellia had noticed a change in her, a shift in her demeanour. She’d always stayed a survivor, but now she was something else again, a fighter. The teaching of forbidden things had changed her, brought something out in her, had nourished something wanting to grow.
“I’ll go look for a well,” Usha said. They were all thirsty. His mother looked at him and smiled.
“We’re on a hill.” The mood lightened with laughter, genuine laughter. Usha looked at her and ChalluTor and pulled a face.
“Do you think they all escaped?” Usha asked. The question had kept Ellia awake half the night every night since they left Erredin.
“If they fought anything like you, I’d say there’s a very good chance they did.” Ellia was aware of Prince Borodon’s abilities, though. Filliš told her about them the night before they left, in that way of his.
“I think we can do it again,” ChalluTor said.
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ChalluTor and Usha were upstairs, packing food and clothing, while she and Filliš said goodbye to each other. She recalled how she’d kissed each of them as they lay there the day before, huddled together around a fire and could still feel Filliš’ glowing touch. They held each other in the cup of their hands, gazing at each other.
“I promised you many children,” Filliš said.
“You came through.” Ellia cried as she looked at those by the fire.
“Thank you, for everything.”
“No. Thank you,” she said. Eyes locked, they held each other in their sight for a few deep, long breaths before one of them spoke again.
“Quite the journey.” Filliš smiled recalling. “You are a righteous woman, Selen.”
“Quite the journey.” She asked him if he would tell her his real name now. Now that they might have reached the end. Filliš moved in closer and whispered it into her ear. “Will I see you again?”
“If the world wishes it, yes. You’d better go now, before it starts.”
“I can take more of them with me,” Ellia pleaded, as she had the day before.
“No, you can’t.” He kissed her.
She didn’t look back once when she went back up those steps and smiled a sad smile. “Filliš sees all!” she heard him say.
“I can hear you smiling,” she said lovingly, quietly, before closing a door behind her.
○
ChalluTor gave her a questioning look. Had she peered into her mind? Did you? Ellia asked with Filliš still on her mind.
“Of course not,” came ChalluTor’s affronted reply. Ellia gave it no more thought.
“We’ll stay here for a day and watch the road.”
“I’m still hungry,” Usha said, looking out over the road that lay like a discarded ribbon out on the hills ahead of them with Ellia.
“We’ll find something in the morning,” she replied and kept her eye on a smudge of dust coming from the direction they had to head for in the morning, or the morning after. “Try to sleep a little. The time will pass faster.” Usha went inside and curled up in the corner of what once might have been a kitchen and tried to sleep. “How about you?” Ellia asked ChalluTor.
“There’s not much we’ll be able to forage,” she said and told Ellia she should get some sleep herself. She would keep watch, she said.
“Mum,” ChalluTor and Usha said, shaking Ellia awake. “Mum!” The two had been awake most of the night and now, while it was still dark, they sounded the alarm. Ellia leaned an elbow on the wheat they’d pulled from a field nearby and, before she had the chance to ask them why they’d woken her, was told men were on their way.
“Where?” she asked in a panic. Her eyes opened wide. She stood up and rushed outside.
“Still far off,” Usha said, “but they’re coming.”
“Where?” Ellia asked. It was a dark overcast night, and she couldn’t see a thing.
“Wait for it,” ChalluTor said. “They’ll appear again soon enough.” They waited and soon enough torchlight appeared at the top of a hill still far off. It disappeared again on its way down and towards them.
“What do we do?” ChalluTor asked.
“Nothing, nothing yet. They might pass us and continue their way.”
The torches appeared and disappeared again and came nearer and nearer.
“Look!” Usha pointed at the light of more torches appearing on the other side of the house. These too appeared and disappeared again and were much closer.
“What do we do?” ChalluTor asked again. Ellia thought and watched, watched and thought until riders approached the base of their hill and came to a halt. She heard the squeal of horses and saw the light disappear again.
“We have to go now,” she said. They grabbed what they could and went down the other side of the hill as fast as they could without stumbling. They heard hooves, and the raised voices of men and then Ellia twisted her ankle, cut her shin on a sharp rock and let out a soft cry. The children looked back. “Go,” she whispered in agony. “Go.” The two stopped and climbed back up again. “Go,” Ellia whispered as loud as she dared to and bit down on her pain. The two kept climbing until they reached their mother.
“They’re down there,” a voice called out. It was Tessen. He threw a torch down the rocky slope and caught ChalluTor’s eyes staring back at him. Besides Droze and Efferin, there were another eight the girl didn’t recognise. “Think you’ll manage it again?” Tessen taunted as he got off his horse. “Freak.” Usha tried helping Ellia farther down the hill as ChalluTor kept staring Tessen down. The others dismounted too. ChalluTor moved hair that had fallen across her eyes out of the way and started whispering again. The other men threw their torches on the rocks surrounding her.
“Close in,” Tessen ordered. Droze was his commanding officer, but he gladly obeyed the order and stayed close behind Tessen when one voice turned to two. The priests of the Teru de Fa raised their arms and crossed them as they moved in closer. Between them, they held twenty-two swords.
“It’s no use,” Usha said. “Come.”
“Hold my hand then,” ChalluTor implored.
“It’s no use,” Usha said again. ChalluTor broke her concentration and told him to bloody well do it. Her eyes flashed up, as the priests moved in closer and Usha froze for the shortest of moments.
“Think you’ll manage it again?” Tessen taunted. “That thing there doesn’t seem to think so.” Usha made his way back to ChalluTor and grabbed her hand to join forces. They barely slowed them down.
It’s no good. There’s too many of them, Usha said.
I know. How far down is mum?
Almost there.
We’ll kill the torches, ChalluTor said and let go of Usha’s hand as soon as they had. It was dark on an overcast night again and the two made their way down as fast as they could.
“Can you see them?” Ellia whispered. They’d almost missed her. The two, startled, shook their heads. “Don’t try to get in their minds. It might lead them straight to us.” Ellia pulled them closer and pushed their heads down.
“The sun will lead them straight to us. It can’t be long before she rises,” ChalluTor said. She looked up from the ridge they hid behind and saw a soft glow emitted from where they’d come. And then the sound of squealing horses again. ChalluTor ducked down.
“Where did they go? Why aren’t they coming down?” Usha asked.
“Maybe they’re waiting for us to reveal ourselves.” Ellia tore a strip of fabric from her dress to tie it over her wound. “Either way, we can’t stay. We need to go now, while it is still dark. If they can’t follow us on horse, we stand a chance. If we make it far enough, they’ll have to split up in their search and-” Something came tumbling down. “Quiet… We take them out in smaller…” Something came tumbling down again, something heavier. ChalluTor wanted to look up, but Ellia told her to keep her head down. Whatever it was, it fell near them, near enough for Usha to hear the softest of whimpers.
“I think it’s one of them,” he said.
“What is?”
“I can hear him,” Usha said and climbed back up against Ellia’s wishes. ChalluTor watched her brother and couldn’t help but follow.
Somewhere there.
Are you sure? ChalluTor, crawling behind him, asked.
Yes. I can still hear it.
“Qar’ Aure?” a voice called out.
“What?”
“Leave him. We need to go.”
That, ChalluTor heard. She came up next to Usha and told him they should get back. “Right there,” Usha said pointing straight ahead and crawled on with ChalluTor reluctantly following him.
“Coming,” Qar’ Aure said. He came back up the hill and looked back one last time.
Usha and ChalluTor looked up and watched Qar’ Aure reach the top of the hill again. They crawled on and reached the spot where Usha had heard the soft whimper come from. It was Tessen. He tried to raise a hand when he saw them come near and struggled to move even a single word past his lips. The two stared into his eyes and looked back up again. Qar’ Aure was gone. The two made their way up the hill to find several torches lying scattered on the ground lighting up the mangled and decapitated bodies of the rest of the men Tessen had come with. They stepped among the corpses, stood still and counted them. They were all there, except for Tessen. Save Tessen, they were all dead. Without speaking a word, the two ran to the other side of the abandoned house and watched riders make their way down the path leading back to the dusty road. The children looked at each other and knew it.
“Wait, wait,” they shouted as the distance between them and the riders grew ever larger until one of them stopped to look back. The two stopped running.
“Wait,” ChalluTor said again. “Please.” The man farthest back looked at them, dismounted and came up to them. Both children became unsure of themselves and frightened again.
“ChalluTor,” Usha said. “Hold my hand.” ChalluTor took a step back and felt for Usha’s hand. It was right there, reaching out for hers. Both took another step back, and another. The dismounted man moved aside his red cloak as he continued walking towards them. The emblem of the Teru de Fa was clearly visible. “What are you waiting for? Do it,” Usha said, squeezing his sister’s hand. ChalluTor had taken her last step back. She’d regained her composure and began whispering. The other riders turned their heads and horses as the man on foot stopped and himself now took a step back. He grinned or at least appeared to from that distance still between them, when ChalluTor attacked him.
“Qar’ Aure. Found two of them,” he shouted out. “You deal with them.” The man raised an open hand to ChalluTor and took further steps back as though backing off from some rabid dog. “Easy now,” he said. “Easy now. No one’s here to hurt you.” Qar’ Aure watched the girl come up closer to Kaco and smiled.
“Too much for you to handle, Kaco?” he said and pulled on his reins. Kaco fought ChalluTor off, but with far more difficulty than he had anticipated.
“A little help, maybe?” he said and gave more ground as Qar’ Aure watched on. The others amused themselves watching Kaco, thinking he was making a fool of himself.
“Now would be good,” he said. The others came closer, all the while grinning until their leader told Qar’ Aure it was time for him to do what he’d been brought along for. Qar’ rode on until he reached Kaco’s horse, got off while he could still handle his and headed straight for ChalluTor.
“ChalluTor. It’s me! The moment word reached us we rode for Erredin,” Daraton said with arms wide open. The children let go of each other and ran for him.
“You came for us,” they said and flung into his arms. Kaco looked on somewhat bewildered at the sudden change in temper in the girl.
“Of course I came for you. Where are the others?”
“Just us three,” Usha said. He could still barely believe it.
“Me, Usha and mum,” ChalluTor said. ChalluTor stroked the cloak Daraton wore and asked if he had food.
“Where is she?” They’d nearly forgotten. They led Daraton and the men he’d come with through the dead old house, past the bodies whose robes they’d removed and burnt and down the hill to the ridge where they’d left her, all the while calling out her name so she would reveal herself.
“Tessen is there,” ChalluTor said.
“Who?” Kaco asked.
“The one you sent crashing down the hill. He’s still alive.” ChalluTor listened out for Ellia’s voice again as the morning call of birds grew richer. “She’s there.” ChalluTor pointed to a spot below the silhouette of a row of cypresses in the far distance. The sun crowned the horizon.
Ellia recognised the voices calling out for her and rose as best she could to her feet. They carried her back to the top of the hill and made her a fire. “Let me look at you,” Ellia said. “’Qar’ Aure’. I like it” She wanted to hug him but held herself back. “A ‘Q’. Exotic.” Daraton smiled and asked after the others. “We don’t know. Your father made us leave before Borodon arrived.”
“It’s true then, Astarandal sent him?”
“That one there,” Ellia said of Tessen, who lay on the ground near them. “One of his men said some escaped, and that Borodon was in pursuit of them.”
“This is all we know as well.”
“Your father will be among them, and Farzih,” Ellia said.
“Did he say how many?” Daraton asked.
“No.” Ellia watched Tessen breathe “He’s not like the others. Stronger, much stronger.”
“Some are,” Daraton said, as he looked over to Tessen and listened to his shallow breathing.
“Everything ChalluTor threw at that one, he cast aside. It only ever slowed him down.”
“She used voices on that one too?” Lear, the leader of the group, asked.
“She did,” Ellia said.
“Filliš taught her, such a young one?”
“He must have,” Ellia said. Lear gave the girl a probing look and mumbled something to himself. “What?”
“Many are taught but few ever learn,” Daraton explained. “None of us here have voices. In Um only one of us does.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she can give us away,” Lear said. “Whenever she uses them, there’s a chance the Traitor hears her do so.”
How do you know? ChalluTor asked. She’d seen them talk and look over to her and Tessen from time to time and wanted to know what they were sharing with each other.
“How do I know? Listen to that one,” Lear scoffed and drank the wine they’d taken from the priests. Ellia guessed what had happened and, watching them pour, wondered what had become of Ceror. “My master, that’s how I know. And she learned it from hers. Care to wager who that master might be?” Lear shouted the words out to her. ChalluTor understood. “No more of it from now on, you hear?” ChalluTor heard.
“What do we do with him?” Daraton asked as he gave Tessen’s broken body a dismissive glance. He’d been the one who’d dished the damage out to him.
“He mentioned hunting us,” ChalluTor said. She’d come up to them. Lear held out a cup full of wine to her. She looked to Ellia for approval. Mother told her to take it.
“They call it The Blooding,” Lear said. “We’ll take that one back with us as well, Qar’ Aure.”
“Yes?” ChalluTor wanted to know more. Lear was about done talking and said as much with his eyes.
“There’s an island they send some of us too,” Kaco said. He wasn’t much taller than ChalluTor. The beard and his voice were the clearest signs he wasn’t a child himself.
“And?”
“They hunt us there, like game. That’s all we know. Killing us is part of their initiation. We think they might let them-” Daraton didn’t know how to finish his sentence.
“Breed,” Lear said. “They’d have to make or let them breed to get those numbers. We got lucky a few years back. Caught one of those,” Lear said flicking a pit at Tessen. “That’s how we know about the island. But they blindfold them before they embark and leave them blindfolded and below deck until they get there. Same on the way back. Couldn’t tell us where it was or how long it took him to get there.” Lear looked at Qar’ Aure and Ellia and over to the children. “Mother. Are you well to travel?” he asked with kinder eyes. They all called her that, Mother, even the ones she hadn’t raised. When she said she was, he stood up and told his men to prepare to head back to Um.
Ellia had heard about a ‘Lear’. His story was more unusual than most. No one found him when he was still a child. He hadn’t been bought at auction or stolen or spirited away from some home before the Teru de Fa came knocking. No one ever found him. It was he who approached one of Filliš’ children one day and simply asked if she was like him. She’d looked at him and laughed, apparently, before wanting to leave the table he found her sitting at.
Like this, he’d said, or so the story went.
He’d failed the Unguising but somehow got away and spent the next six years of his life on the run and in hiding before finding his way onto a crew of pirates plying their trade in the Sea of Ganzeei. The odds of making it to one’s twenties under those conditions were slim to non-existent, but he’d made it. He had to have traded something for it, that’s what Filliš told her when he shared the story about a boy going by the name of ‘Lear’. He had to have let some darkness in. There were scars on his wrists he didn’t bother hiding.
This ‘Lear’ certainly had something dark about him. The way they’d slaughtered those priests, a brutal thing to behold. And how did he end up with Ceror’s wine? What had Daraton’s part been in it?
If it was the same ‘Lear’, he’d be maybe two years younger than her. He looked the age.
“Why just two?” Qar’ Aure asked.
“More would have drawn too much attention,” Ellia said. “And they look the most like me.” Filliš was right.
“We’ve done all we could and learned all we can,” Lear said before checking on his horse. On his way, he snapped a necklace from Tessen’s neck. He held more like it in his hand and each one of them had something dangling from it.
“What’s he holding,” Ellia wanted to know.
“Trophies,” Daraton said with a hateful look, as Ellia discovered Farzih’s cup had broken.