A Time of Darkness (The Circle of Talia) (14 page)

Zim landed next to Arcese at the base of a small hill. There was enough light for Agmunsten to appreciate the mass of trees that would cloak them while they slept. They were far from any thoroughfare and were unlikely to be disturbed. Boy and Arie remained silent while they walked as far into the forest as they could—only stopping when the gaps between trees were too narrow for the dragons to pass. Zim spoke out loud since Boy didn’t have the skill of listening with his mind. “Arie, I’d like you to take first watch, and Agmunsten will take the second. Arcese and I don’t usually need a lot of sleep, but we’ve been flying all night and my wings ache. I could do with a good nap.”

Boy and Agmunsten watched as both dragons curled into ball
s, their skin shimmering to a gray-brown imitation of large boulders.

“I didn’t know they could do that.” Boy was clearly impressed.

“You learn something new every day, hey lad?” Agmunsten and Boy lay down. Before too long, Arie could hear his teacher and one of the “boulders” snoring. He chuckled and hoped if anyone came near, they were hard of hearing. Settling in to watch for a few hours, he crossed his fingers and prayed they wouldn’t be disturbed—Inkrans weren’t renowned for their hospitality. The wait began.

After dinner on the second night, they gathered in Arcon’s room. Too sick to get out of bed, the realmist lay on his bunk, a bowl within easy reach. Avruellen commandeered the only chair in the room, so Blayke sat on the floor next to Sinjenasta. Out of habit, Avruellen spoke aloud. “I’ve warded our conversation. There’s not much use shielding ourselves, as I’m sure whoever has been watching us knows we’re after Bronwyn.” The realmist waved her hand in front of her face. “For goodness sake! How does a squeeto get out here? The last thing I need is for tiny bugs to be hatching out of my skin.” This time she brought her other hand up and clapped in the air. “Got it. Now, as I was saying … what was I saying? Oh, yes, I spoke to the captain this afternoon. His man in the crow’s nest says the dot is getting bigger.”

“By dot, do you mean the boat we’re chasing?”

“Yes, Blayke. What other
dot
would I be talking about?”

“Just checking.”

“So, as well as gaining distance on them, the captain said the only place he could be heading for is Aspurle and Blaggard’s Bay. Apparently there are no other islands in that direction for at least two weeks, and if we can believe the talk around the docks, the ship only had supplies for a few days.”

Arcon groaned, from feeling sick or dreading what that meant, no one could tell. “Are we grabbing Bronwyn and getting her out, or are we looking for the gormon too?”

Avruellen answered, “I think we stand a good chance of killing it, two against one.”

“Hang on. I’m here too,” Blayke said.

Arcon’s voice, although low, was in a tone that forewarned against arguing. “I need you to help Sinjenasta get Bronwyn back to the boat. We can’t afford to lose anyone. My sister and I might decide we have to retreat, and I don’t want to have any extras to worry about. We’re on limited time.”

“Yes,” interrupted Avruellen, “the captain said it’s about five days from here to the Isle of the Dead Souls if the wind favours us, and even if we find the book straight away, it might take some time to find the part we’re looking for. The full moon is in nine days: that’s not a lot of time to waste.”

“What happens if we miss the full moon? Can’t we just wait for the next one?”

“No, Blayke. If we miss it, according to the prophecy, the gormons will be upon us before we do the last activation, and then it will be too late. The amulets are the key to defeating the
gormons—without them there is no way. And don’t ask me how because I don’t know.” Arcon propped himself up on one elbow and hovered his mouth over the bowl. Nothing came out. He dropped his head onto the pillow. “I hate boats.”

Sinjenasta sat up and curled his sleek tail around his feet. “How far ahead are they? If they land too far ahead, they could do anything to Bronwyn before we get there. I’m blocked from feeling her, but surely I’d know if she died.”

“They’re about three hours ahead. It’s not much,” Avruellen answered.

“That’s too far for my liking. I think I’m going to call up some extra wind, see if we can’t speed this boat up.”

“Be careful, panther, you don’t want to tire yourself out. Who knows what’s waiting for us. Now, I need to go to sleep; it’s the only escape from this rotten ship I can find.” Arcon rolled over, indicating the conversation was over.

The others climbed above deck. Avruellen stood with the captain, a squat man with dreadlocks and a cropped brown beard. Blayke, with Fang nestled in his shirt pocket, joined Sinjenasta at the prow of the timber vessel. The panther stood quietly, staring in the direction of where he thought Bronwyn must be. His stare g
lazed over as he concentrated.
Drakon, are you there?

Yes. What is it?

What’s waiting at Blaggard’s Bay?

There is a gormon. He’s preparing for the arrival of the horde. If you’re going to ask me if you could kill him, I don’t know. If I knew the future, by definition, it would be unchangeable. I do know the gormons will come through, with or without the one who is already there. And for you to fight thousands is still what will need to be done. Wil
l one less make any difference?

So you’re saying leave it?
Drakon remained silent, and Sinjenasta realized the god had gone. The panther snarled, and Blayke, who had been watching him trance, pulled his sword out of its scabbard, anticipating an attack.
Put that away, cub.

Blayke relaxed. “Why the growl?”

Just having a conversation with the dragon god. He has no concept of manners, which surprises me since his dragons are Talia’s foremost authorities on etiquette
. Sinjenasta swished his tail and sat down. He sent to Avruellen and Arcon
. Drakon says there is one gormon at Blaggard’s Bay. He’s hinted we shouldn’t risk it because there are thousands about to get here
. Silence stretched until he spoke again.
Hello? Avruellen, Arcon
?

Sorry, I’m here
, said Avruellen.
I just don’t know how to answer. Thousands? When?

He didn’t say.

He might not know
. Arcon’s mind voice sounded just as ill as his real one.

He can’t see into the Third Realm very well. When I was living with him and we tried, it was like looking through a heat wave that contained a dust storm. You can see shadows but nothing else, and hearing conversations is like listening to someone talk underwater. As you know, the gormons have black symbols and are invisible in the Second Realm
.

Arcon paused before he answered.
If it’s an easy kill, do it, but we can’t afford to go chasing about the island. We have to get to the Isle of the Dead Souls. Getting Bronwyn might take all the realmists and time we have
. Sinjenasta cocked his head to the side and waited.

I’m not happy about this, but okay
. Avruellen spoke with the voice she reserved for chastising people.

Whatever you want. Now excuse me while I throw up
. Sinjenasta was glad Arcon broke the link before he had to listen to any more.

Can you watch me please, Blayke
?

Blayke, who had re-sheathed his sword, nodded. “
Do you need any help?”

No, but if I call you to the Second Realm, be ready to come
.

“
Okay.” Blayke tensed.

Sinjenasta lay on the deck and shut his luminous eyes. He sped through the dark tunnel to the Second Realm, the sea breeze on his face mimicking what he might have felt had his body been hurtling through the space between realms. He became his symbol. The thought to absorb power automatic, his symbol immediately pulsated as he drew power from the space around him, which was pregnant with energy. When he collected what he needed, he carried it back with his awareness, attached by familiarity—the energy knew him because he had touched it, and it obeyed.

Sinjenasta threw the power out, mentally intoning a recipe for heat. Far in front of the ship, he blanketed the air with warmth. Within a few minutes the colder air behind and above them rushed in to sink under the warmer air. Blayke’s ears popped as the air pressure changed and the wind increased, filling the sails to capacity and causing the two masts to creak. The ship leapt forward and ploughed through newly formed whitecaps. Salty spray spattered Blayke’s face.

“What happened?” Avruellen, wearing a hooded cloak, appeared to materialize out of nowhere.

Sinjenasta answered.
I’ve given us a little help. It will only last about an hour because my reach wasn’t as far as I’d like. It will be just enough so we can hopefully land just after Morth
.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Sinjenasta raised one furry eyebrow; the back and forth sweep of his tail warned her to curb her rebuke. Avruellen sniffed and returned to her room. Blayke noted the exchange and realized Sinjenasta must have a lot more power than he originally thought. No one stood up to a realmist like that and got away with it, especially not one of The Circle. As the ship fell and rose with the swell, Blayke gripped the railing and hoped the big cat really was on their side.
We’re coming, Bronwyn. Hang on; we’re coming.

Bronwyn woke to the slosh of water lapping against the hull. Shouts of, “Throw the rope,” and “Steady now,” filtered down to her prison. The ship had docked. She reached out with her mind and gently prodded the barrier blocking her from the Second Realm. There were no gaps, nothing to squeeze her awareness through. She despaired at being cut off from her power, but then she remembered her natural magic.

Quietly she rolled out of bed and crouched, placing her hands on the floor. She sent vibrations of awareness into the timber but found no rivers of power. Dead timber really was dead, it turned out.

The realmist also thought of her weapons for the first time. She hoped they hadn’t thrown away the sword and dagger Avruellen had given her. Feeling naked without them, she pretended she held her sword and practiced her forms in the cramped space, realizing how difficult it would be to fight in such confined quarters. Being told and experiencing it were two different things.

Hearing a key in the lock, Bronwyn turned to the door. When it opened, in barged a large woman, taller than Bronwyn, wearing a knee-length brown dress belted where her waist should have been, a dagger clutched in her masculine fingers. The light from the one porthole wasn’t particularly good, but Bronwyn was sure the woman had a shadow of a moustache above her sour mouth. “Git up, yer lazy cow.”

Corrille, who had woken when the door opened, jumped down and curtseyed.

“I’m sorry, madame.”

The woman turned malicious, beady eyes on Bronwyn. “Where are your manners, girl? Curtsey when a lady enters the room.”

Bronwyn coughed into her hand. “When is the lady getting here?”

As soon as she said it, she knew she should have kept her mouth shut.

For a large woman, she moved fast, pinning Bronwyn against the wall with the dagger pressing a white line across her throat. The woman spoke, her nose an inch from the realmist’s. Fish-scented breath struck Bronwyn’s face with every word. “Shut it. One more word from you, and I don’t care what my orders are: you’re dead.” She emphasized her words by adjusting the point of the blade and pricking Bronwyn’s skin, holding the knife up to her face to show her the fresh dewdrop of red. “Now, out!”

Corrille, who stood slack-jawed throughout Bronwyn’s ordeal, hurried to obey. Bronwyn followed her out, stumbling from a shove in the back. The realmist was so angry she wanted to cry. As soon as she was on land, she would see if the Talian magic worked.

But what to do about Corrille? Her friend seemed so scared that she might not run when the time came, and she couldn’t leave her, could she?
Okay, don’t think about that now. Deal with it if it happens.
When they reached the dock, Morth waited. “Ah, Mother. I see you’ve met Bronwyn.” The way he rolled the ‘r’ in her name almost made her laugh, which made her question her sanity.
How can I possibly want to laugh at a time like this?

“Stop your talking and let’s go. It’s waiting.”

Bronwyn surveyed the island as they walked. If she did escape, where would she go? And was Sinjenasta on her trail? Maybe she would just have to wait and see where they were going. Avruellen’s constant reminder sounded in her head: be patient. If it was one thing she hated, it was waiting and being told to be patient.

The dock ended at a cobbled road, which rose gradually and disappeared behind the cliff in front of them. Instead of taking this road, Morth angled left and walked towards the base of a cliff where a narrow path wormed between boulders and twiggy bushes that would have looked dead if not for the brightest pink flowers Bronwyn had ever seen clinging to them.

Bronwyn didn’t have time to check if the Talian magic worked here, because all her concentration was needed for the climb. Several times Corrille slipped on loose stones and slid backwards into Bronwyn. Each time, Morth’s mother would yell, “Hurry up, clumsy! We haven’t got all day.”