Survivors: Book 4 Circles of Light series (16 page)

‘I am escorting my
friends to the islands.’ Gan took the role of spokesman. ‘Have you
ever been to the coast?’

Zenidor gave a short
laugh. ‘I went once, with my father. We had planned to be there for
six days and we left after just one.’ He shook his head at the
memory. ‘People everywhere. Buildings everywhere. We got lost every
time we turned a corner. And the noise! Street traders, pedlars,
Harbour City guards, temple bells and priests calling their
followers. I don’t know how folk can live like that, squashed
against each other. Father and I left Harbour City the day after
we’d arrived and scarcely stopped to rest until we’d got
home.’

‘What religion do you
follow, or the Harbour City people?’ Gan was wary. The Asatarians
and the Sapphreans called only on the stars for guidance and
revered the land for the constancy and permanence of both. He had,
in his role as Captain of the Golden Lady’s Guards, had to deal
with instances of strangely deviant cults which thankfully were
isolated and rare occurrences. He waited for Zenidor’s reply with
some trepidation.

Zenidor shrugged. ‘In
Harbour City there are many gods and goddesses. Many people there
make their living on or in the great sea. It is a dangerous life –
a storm can overturn great merchant ships as easily as a small
fishing boat. So the people offer gifts and prayers to many
different temples in hope of protection.’

One of the other
village men, far older than the others, raised a gnarled hand. ‘I
am Zeminth. I lead our people here in the rites each cycle and the
birth and death rituals. We pray to the land and the Elder
Races.’

‘Elder Races?’ Tika
asked rather too quickly.

The old man stared at
her but the hood of her cloak shadowed her face completely. He
nodded slowly but said nothing more.

Tika took a deep
breath. ‘Do you know stories of Dragons, or of gijan?’

The silence in the room
was now dense enough to see it. Zeminth folded his hands on the
table. ‘They are Elder Races. We honour their memory and pray the
time will come when they will walk these lands once more. Now, may
I ask why sacred ones come from the north at this time? I was but a
tottering child when I last heard of such an event.’

‘I would first ask what
you mean when you speak of sacred ones,’ Ren leaned his chin on his
hand, his face well hidden within his hood.

Zeminth frowned. ‘The
ones in white robes are the messengers of the Elder Races. They
came among us often in the Time Before. There have been only a
handful of visits in many generations now. Perhaps we have failed
them somehow. Can you not tell us?’

‘I think we must sleep
on this. At sunrise we should leave, but we will speak of your
questions then.’ Ren spoke slowly.

‘We would count that
gracious of you, sacred one.’

The company were told
they could sleep in this hall and were supplied with pillows and
blankets for their comfort. Zeminth was the last to leave, leaning
heavily on a much younger woman’s arm. An orange Kephi shot between
his feet and he turned back with a frown.

‘Cats do not enter our
dwellings – they live in the barns.’

Khosa leaped to Sket’s
chest and he grinned at the old man. ‘This one travels with us
sir.’

Zeminth’s eyebrows rose
but he let the matter drop and shuffled out. The door closed and
Maressa sank onto a heap of pillows.

‘Not a trace of mind
power among them,’ she said.

Tika pushed her hood
back with relief. ‘I thought not,’ she agreed. ‘What do you intend
to tell them in the morning Ren?’

Silvered chestnut eyes
met Tika’s. ‘You know full well.’

She grinned and curled
among the pillows with a gigantic yawn.

They were given
breakfast just before dawn by the same three women who’d served
them yesterday, then the company stepped outside. The air was much
fresher than they’d experienced for days and they breathed it
gratefully. The villagers waited for them silently, the old man
standing between Zenidor and Vanim. The first sunlight sparkled on
dew limning the stone roofs and the grass underfoot. Tika moved
slowly forward, Sket at her shoulder. She stopped in front of
Zeminth and raised her hands to push her hood away from her face.
Even the old man could not repress a gasp when he saw her eyes:
green as emeralds surrounded by silver. She turned her eyes to the
sky and the villagers followed her gaze.

Four Dragons spiralled
lazily down to land barely a man length from the village people.
Three gijan glided silently over their heads then dropped beside
Tika, enfolding her in wings lined with pale green, deep pink and
bright yellow. The one with the pink under feathers suddenly
pounced, lifting Khosa with a trill of delight. Khosa didn’t appear
overwhelmed with pleasure at this treatment but she bore it
relatively gracefully.

Farn paced forward, his
silver blue scales flashing in the rising sun and pressed his brow
to Tika’s. His long beautiful face turned towards the three men
standing in stunned stillness. His eyes whirred, with mischief had
they but known it, and he leaned to press his brow to Zeminth’s.
Farn spoke in all their minds.

‘May the stars guide
your paths my friends. I am Farn, soul bond of Tika.’

Zeminth pulled free of
the two men supporting him and staggered two steps towards Farn,
his hands stretching, trembling to the young Dragon. Farn studied
him, saw tears streaming down the old weatherworn face and gently
ducked his head, letting Zeminth’s hands rest upon his
neck.

Seeing Zeminth’s
reaction to the Dragons the other villagers came hesitantly closer.
Seela and Brin introduced themselves, radiating calm friendliness.
Ren and Tika watched the gijan approach the younger people,
realising how dependent on each other they must have been in the
City of the Domes. Leaf appeared more confident while Piper and
Willow held hands and stayed close behind her. Navan was commenting
on how well these people accepted the unexpected sight of Dragons
and gijan in their midst when an ear-splitting noise erupted from
one of the sheds.

All heads turned to see
Storm backing hurriedly away from the door. From within came
braying shrieks and gasping wheezes. Storm’s distress and
embarrassment were plain to see but Zenidor’s stern face slowly
cracked into a smile. He caught Olam’s eye.

‘I believe the young
one might have tried to introduce himself to our
donkeys.’

Piper ran to Storm,
draping herself along his grey neck and trilling to him. Tika
looked across at Leaf and Willow. Yes, they were growing: at least
their legs were. All three gijan wore only the loose trousers
they’d worn in the City. Tika could see a clear handspan of thin
leg above each ankle now, whereas before the trousers reached down
to the gijan’s feet.

Somehow the travellers
found they were still in the village at noon, but they felt they
couldn’t depart in the face of such communal delight. A bench had
been brought out for Zeminth and he sat, disbelief on his face,
while Seela reclined beside him, her head lowered to his level.
Tika and Ren were perched on a stone wall talking to Sket and Navan
when Zenidor approached them.

‘Please sacred ones,
must you leave today? One more night can surely not interfere with
your plans can it? I beg you stay until tomorrow.’

Tika smiled. ‘We had
been discussing that very thing Zenidor. Very well. We will stay
one more night but we must go at tomorrow’s dawn. We do not know
how long it will take us to journey to a particular island in the
western sea. There is some urgency in our getting there
though.’

‘My people find it a
great magic that the Dragons speak inside our heads. They are so
wise and gentle – truly Elders.’

Tika maintained her
smile in the face of Sket’s grin: Farn was behind Zenidor and
clearly approved his comment on the gentleness and the wisdom of
Dragons.

‘He’ll be unbearable,’
Sket muttered with undisguised glee.

Storm worked his way
carefully through the humans and settled beside Navan.

‘I did not mean to
upset those animals in their cave,’ he explained.

Navan rubbed the sea
Dragon’s face. ‘We know you didn’t, but perhaps you should be very
careful just where you poke your nose from now on.’

‘Oh I will, I will.’
Storm’s agreement was heartfelt.

Later in the day, Tika
joined Zeminth where he still sat, apparently immovable, on his
bench beside Seela.

‘You are glad to know
that the Elder Races are still in this world Zeminth?’ she asked
gently.

He dragged his gaze
from Seela’s violet prismed eyes to Tika’s face.

‘I have been asking
this beautiful one why we never knew the Dragons still live beyond
the desert lands.’

‘I wondered about that.
But why have we, who live in those same lands, never known your
people were here? We have never heard of these ships Zenidor spoke
of, but if they travel among many islands, why have they not
travelled north and found our people?’

Zeminth thought for a
while. ‘I have never been on a ship, or seen one, or visited
Harbour City so I cannot answer your question properly. There have
long been stories of terrible weather along the coast which borders
the eastern desert. I have heard tales of great monsters, which
drag ships beneath the waters of the western coast.’ He frowned.
‘The monsters and the freak storms are both said to occur where the
desert lines the shore. Very few shipmen survive, even if they
reach land. In fact, I don’t recall any stories of
survivors.’

Tika noticed his use of
the word by which Kirat had referred to Kertiss, and as had Khosa
when she spoke of Namolos. ‘Do you trade or have any dealings with
the desert people?’

Zeminth shook his head
firmly. ‘They are fierce warriors who seek blood. Zenidor at first
thought your party was perhaps a small raiding force. They come
occasionally, steal animals, children, women, kill the men and try
to burn our buildings. We have not been attacked for perhaps ten
cycles but my cousin’s village to the east, three days walk away,
was destroyed only a few seasons past.’

‘We have told you that
we must reach one of the western islands. Should we be especially
wary in Harbour City or will we find any such as you, who revere
the Elder Races?’

A gnarled hand covered
Tika’s. ‘Do not let the Elder Ones be seen in Harbour City. There
are many who would try to harm them, for many different reasons.
But there are still temples to the Elder Races within the City:
poorly attended and falling into decay I have heard. Wandering
traders sometimes reach even to our small northern villages and
they are welcome indeed for their news of the great world beyond
our fields. The traders know that many of us still follow the Way
of the Elders and so they tell us of our dwindling numbers of
friends within the City.’

He fumbled inside the
neck of his shirt and drew out a leather thong. It was threaded
through an oblong of copper and Tika leaned closer to see the
markings etched on one surface. A Dragon’s face stared from the
centre of the copper but the two wings flaring to each side were
feathered wings.

‘If you see a building
with markings like this, or anyone who wears such a token, you may
be safe. Be cautious, but they might be true followers and able to
help you. Tell them Zeminth of the north sends you to
them.’

Tika could not hide her
doubts. ‘Is anyone likely to know Zeminth when you say you have
never visited the City?’

‘I was fortunate,
sacred one. My father was a man who could both read and write. He
taught me and my sister. Traders learnt to bring paper and books to
him. I studied his books and collected more of my own. In my
youthful arrogance I dared to write to a man whose book I found
most puzzling and I gave the paper to a trader. A full cycle passed
before that trader returned – with a paper from the man in Harbour
City and a whole bundle of books!’ Zeminth shook his head at the
memory.

‘I had my work in the
fields but at night I worked over those books. The man – Nornay Vos
Keptun – was a great scholar in the City and he sent me copies of
many of the texts on the Elder Races over the cycles. I keep them
in great safety – as you might guess. Most in this place can read
and write – my father and then I and my sister taught them. I have
two young ones who will take care of my papers when I pass from
this life.

‘Nornay Vos Keptun
asked me to visit him in every paper he sent. Part of me wishes I
had gone to him, but I was too afraid of the City. He told me he
had given my name to the temples of the Elder Races so that they
would welcome me should I visit.’ Zeminth shrugged. ‘I still
receive messages from Nornay’s son – Hariko Vos Nornay. Thus I
would guess my name is still known in the temples.’

‘If we pass this way
again Zeminth, we should be greatly honoured to see those texts.
Would you allow us to read them?’

‘Of course. You are
sacred ones. What is mine is yours,’ said the old man
simply.

Tika kissed his cheek.
‘I hope to return to keep you to that promise,’ she said. ‘But I
don’t know what lies ahead. There are great troubles loose in the
world which somehow I and my friends must help defeat. I beg you
guard your people well.’ She paused. ‘We have come from a City in
the very heart of the desert. Most of the people were ordinary
farming folk, but there is a rottenness at the heart of that place.
We insisted we leave and demanded guides to bring us to these
lands. The three guides who led us tried to kill some of my
friends. Two of the guides died, one escaped. I fear others may try
to follow our trail so please Zeminth, keep a good watch for your
northernmost fields.’