Survivors: Book 4 Circles of Light series (53 page)

‘Yes. She was a huge
shape, constantly changing, but not quite solid. If she had reached
a more solid state, I doubt she could have been defeated. I
understand now why Taseen said they were called monstrous. She was
like something from your worst nightmare multiplied a thousand
times over. Because her shape shifted from one aspect to another,
it was difficult to keep track of the threads of her being. Seela
gave me time to do that.’

‘How did those scales
get inside Sket’s pack? It was fastened tight when the gijan
brought you back to us.’

Tika shook her head. ‘I
have no idea. I think he was unconscious from the time Seela
died.’

‘As were you,’ Navan
began, but Tika shook her head again.

‘I was dragged out of
my body by Valesh’s death pangs. At least, I think that’s what must
have happened. Perhaps Taseen might know. My body was with Sket,
but my mind went to a very strange place.’

She twisted to look
closely into Navan’s face. ‘Did Mayla ever speak of places
Between?’

Navan frowned. ‘I was
taken from the women’s quarters at seven and I spoke only rarely to
her after that. I don’t remember such a phrase.’

Tika sighed. ‘It was a
grey place, something like the Domain of the Delvers in form:
tunnels leading all ways. Seela spoke to me there. She said there
are many such places but that particular one was the place Between
life and death which is why she was able to be there for a very
brief time.’

Navan listened in
silence.

‘She said I must hurry
from that place, but I couldn’t feel the thread that links me to my
body. That’s what makes me think I was pulled there by Valesh.
Seela then told me to follow Sket’s mind but I couldn’t find him. I
know now that he was unconscious, so his mind was lost to me
anyway.’

Navan pushed a pack
under Tika’s shoulders and went to fetch more tea for
her.

‘I went down so many
tunnels Navan, and all so strange.’

She rested the tea bowl
on her lap and reached for his hand. ‘All of them ended in a sort
of sealed window. Many were dark and I could see nothing. But one
showed me Hargon.’

Navan gave an
exclamation of shock. ‘Hargon?’ he echoed.

Tika nodded. ‘He looked
very sick. He was sitting near the sea Dragons’ caves and he was
speaking to Mist. Then the window grew dark and I saw no
more.’

She sat silent for a
few moments before continuing. ‘I could tell that I had been too
long from my body, that in fact my body would die soon if I
couldn’t get back and then I wouldn’t be able to get back at all. I
think I started to panic, rushing down every tunnel I saw. Then I
smelt mint, like Ren, Sket and I did at the coast – do you
remember? It seemed as good a chance as any so I tried to follow
the smell and it led me to Sket. I remember hurting and knowing I
was in my body, although I wasn’t sure if Sket was alive. Then Leaf
was there.’

Tika seemed to relax
once she’d told Navan all she could of that time and she soon
drifted back to sleep. Navan tucked the blankets around her and sat
watching through the remainder of the night. He found much of what
she’d told him beyond his ability to comprehend but he recognised
three things clearly. One was how terrified she had been, both when
she was trying to unmake Valesh and when she found herself in the
place Between. The second was that despite her fear, her courage
had carried her through. The third thing was what an incredibly
powerful mind was contained within this small person.

Next morning the sky
had cleared enough for them to venture out. They came back coated
with a layer of fine reddish brown dust but the wind no longer
hurled granules of grit with the almost lethal intent it had
previously. Gan fetched more water, pouring it from pail to pail
through a cloth to remove the dirt, but Jakri told him not to
bother. The Wendlan Mage placed his hand in the water, murmured a
few words and smiled.

‘It is pure now,’ he
said. ‘A very basic spell.’

He was surprised that
neither Ren nor Maressa had known of such a thing and repeated the
words to them. They were as thrilled as children when they
discovered it really was that simple to ensure safe drinking water.
They were all concerned about their rapidly dwindling supplies.
Storm ventured outside cautiously, studying the sky still streaked
with angry colours. It was some time before Farn wondered where his
friend had gone. Navan and Maressa hurried out just in time to see
Storm flying towards them. He gave them four stout fish with an air
of modest pride. His offering was received with delight, especially
from Khosa and Akomi.

That evening, sitting
round their comforting fire and with three of Ren’s glow stones
cheering them further, Gan offered his opinion that they would be
able to travel the next day.

‘Yes, but where?’ asked
Maressa. ‘Olam’s still in Wendla. We don’t know where Grek is.
Should we go to Harbour City to help the people there? Or try to
find Namolos?’

They sat in silence
considering the choices Maressa offered them. Eventually Tika
realised they were all staring at her.

‘Why must I be the one
to choose?’ she asked irritably. She sighed. ‘To be honest, I know
where we should go but I’m not keen on the idea.’

Farn leaned over her
shoulder to press his cheek against hers in sympathy.

‘We have to go back to
the desert. Valesh’s brother is much damaged, nowhere near as
strong as she was. But he is still powerful enough to cause plenty
of difficulty. He must be unmade too.’

Next morning they
gathered their belongings and prepared to leave their haven. Jakri
had decreed their travelling was to be gentle, no long flights to
weary his patients. Although they protested that they were well
enough, both Sket and Tika were still far from fit. Sket was
bothered by a continuing dull headache which annoyed him more than
the tingling in his hand, while Tika would not admit just how badly
her burns still hurt.

They were all outside
when Brin reared erect, staring to the north east. All they could
see was a dark shape flying towards them at considerable speed.
Suddenly the gijan wailed and threw themselves flat on the ground,
clouds of dust rising around them, their wings half
extended.

There was no mistaking
what she was as she landed gracefully in front of them. Her scales
sparkled even in this diffuse sunlight and her great wings gleamed
black over her shoulders. The blue sash at her waist contrasted
with the dark blue of her under feathers. She bowed, her wings
spreading on the ground behind her.

‘I am the Elder, Flute.
I seek the one named Tika.’

Chapter
Thirty

Orla was revelling in
her new situation. She had summoned the leaders of the desert
warriors – armsmen were not needed in such a secure place as the
City of the Domes but there were always men and women to be found
who relished a life in arms. The desert fighter Hadjay had reported
back to her on the treacherous deaths of his brothers and their
failure to kill the strange visitors. He had been incandescent with
rage and sorrow: so easy to manipulate. Hadjay, by Orla’s command,
sent for the nearest tribal leaders. Usually, any such dealings
were conducted through the intermediaries of the Keepers but this
time, resplendent in uniform, Orla herself had met them in the Dome
of Assembly.

The warriors had knelt
before her, their foreheads touching the floor. She gave them a
slightly slanted version of events and was thrilled to see how
quickly these fierce warriors went from abject awe to bloodthirsty
eagerness. She produced maps of such detail they murmured in
astonishment and nodded when she indicated the route they should
take to Harbour City. Orla knew nothing of Harbour City, seeing it
only on the several occasions the Ship over flew the planet prior
to Kertiss deciding where they would land.

Even on magnified scans
it had seemed a small place of modest primitive buildings – except
for the great fortress on its eastern promontory. The desert men
could tell Orla nothing of the land of Malesh. They raided only a
few leagues below their desert for the sheer sport of it; they had
no ambitions towards conquest and governance. But Orla did. She had
had plenty of years to experiment in her laboratories beneath the
greatest of the three Domes and had been content to do so until the
last twenty years or so.

She had begun to dream
in her brief periods of sleep. To begin with, she’d disregarded
them, but when they persisted she found herself thinking of them
while she worked. Orla didn’t discuss them with Kertiss: they
rarely spoke to each other. She didn’t know what he thought of her
and didn’t care. He was the older of the two of them, and male, and
even in the enlightened times in which they’d been born, her stupid
parents lavished their love, praise, and more importantly, the very
best education they could buy on him.

She had worked through
computers at home and at the inadequate school to which she was
sent, stealing Kertiss’s access codes to keep up with all he
studied. She’d turned her back on her parents the day she achieved
the highest marks in her graduation classes and was immediately
offered her pick of research jobs. Kertiss got a low percentage of
marks in his graduation examinations and still their parents threw
a party to celebrate their wonder boy’s achievement.

She lost track of him
for years and then found, somewhat to her horror, that they were on
the same training programme for captaincies of the new bio Ships.
After some thought, it seemed sensible to choose to do a joint
captaincy – she knew she would be able to manipulate him even if he
did believe he was the senior officer. But they had been rejected
by the board. Kertiss had shrugged it off but Orla couldn’t believe
she’d failed to get something on which she’d set her
heart.

They’d been crossing
the middle concourse of the bio Ship docks when sirens sounded
their warnings. She’d grabbed Kertiss, pulling him against the tide
of panicking workers and tugged him towards the nearest Ship.
They’d swung round a corner straight into Captain Mazan. Orla
didn’t hesitate. She hit the woman in the stomach, kneed her face
as she doubled over and shoved her into the path of a rushing crowd
of workers. Orla hauled Kertiss with her and jumped into Star
Singer’s door.

The Ship was young, far
too highly strung and emotional, but he had got them to Kel-Harat –
a whole world she would make her own. And now she felt the time had
finally arrived to fulfil this ambition.

The tribal leaders had
gone to gather their warriors throughout the eastern desert and
Orla promised supplies and invincibility. She had quietly
manufactured several small psionic disrupters modelled on her
personal one, carried by all the crews of bio Ships. Now she
wondered about some of the other weapons still on board Star
Singer. Days passed when Orla was preoccupied with reports
diligently sent back to her from the first wave of invading
warriors. She had been working to replicate the small hand
communicators as well, which had lain, long forgotten, on a shelf
in one of her laboratories. It had proved an impossible task and
Orla cursed the brain back on their home world who had so cunningly
made it precisely so that it could not be duplicated. Their damned
righteous policy of non interference.

Orla knew the desert
men were moving south, band after band, as those from further in
the great desert followed the call to arms as they received it. It
occurred to Orla that she hadn’t seen Kertiss for many days. She
went briskly through to his section of the underground complex and
couldn’t find him. She frowned, then her brow cleared. He may be in
a regeneration tank. She palmed the door panel and went quietly
into the room. Lights flashed and flickered in a steady rhythmic
pattern monitoring the status of Kertiss’s body.

Orla walked round the
tank slowly, watching the indicators. She turned to the control
panel and studied it for a while. Then she smiled. She reached out
and with one finger flicked a switch upwards. She depressed two
buttons on the lower panel and moved back to the tank. Orla patted
the lid.

‘Sleep long and deep,
brother dear.’

She closed the door
behind her and turned left to return to her quarters. She hesitated
and swung back, striding down the corridor towards the Ship’s
holding chamber. She was several paces into the chamber when she
stopped in her tracks. Her gaze went at once to the roof: it was
closed, so presumably the Ship was in the Dome. An equipment
malfunction? Surely none of the Keepers knew how to activate the
lift, even if they might know of the upper access point?

Her soft soled native
shoes made little noise as Orla walked up the ramp. She stared. The
Ship was not there. Slowly, Orla looked round the Dome, hairs
prickling on the back of her neck. Empty plinths lined the circular
walls, but there was no sign of a single statue. Who could have
moved the huge figures without triggering any of the alarms Kertiss
had put in place? Orla’s stunned mind began to click into action.
It would have taken a lot of man power, a lot of time, to carry the
great statues from the Dome. And the Ship – had he been towed out
somehow? And when had this happened? Damn stupid Kertiss and his
inefficiency! She ignored the inconvenient thought that maybe she
should have checked his work herself.