Survivors: Book 4 Circles of Light series (9 page)

Seela led the Dragons
higher still, keeping her eyes on the direction of the trail as
well as the distance separating them from the horse riders.
Eventually dawn’s fingers touched the Dragons and Farn called aloud
with delight at the first warmth. Seela swung round in a slow
circling swoop before resuming her leading place.

‘We will land there,’
she announced.

The Dragon riders
peered down, seeing the trail Kirat followed opened onto a broad
flat area. Accordingly, the Dragons spiralled down, settling on
rough grass. Tika slid from Farn’s back and watched the gijan slip
from Storm. The three immediately set about making a camp: one dug
away turf for a fire pit, another trotted off, seeking fuel for
that fire, and the third clambered over a large boulder from beyond
which came the sound of fast flowing water.

Maressa joined her. ‘I
cannot reach their minds,’ she spoke quietly. ‘They seem so docile,
so timid, yet they shield their minds to an extent I cannot
breach.’

Tika glanced up at the
air mage. ‘I glimpsed something enormous and intricate when the
first gijan allowed me that brief entry to his mind,’ Tika
admitted. ‘But I haven’t tried to touch their thoughts
since.’

Gan had knelt to help
the gijan clear a patch of ground for the fire. He looked up
smiling when the two women drew near.

‘It feels such a
relief, just being clear of that strange place,’ he
said.

They all stared back
down, into the deep Valley. The rising sun was just gilding the
tops of the three great Domes even as Kirat appeared over the edge
of the plateau. He dismounted and loosened his saddle.

‘We will stop only long
enough for a quick meal,’ he called to the other riders. ‘We must
make as good time as we can today.’

Pallin joined the gijan
by the fire and produced two kettles. Why were armsmen so devoted
to their tea, Tika wondered absently? When Kirat and his brothers
joined the group round the fire, she noticed all three gijan drew
closer to Sket, leaving a considerable space between themselves and
the Qwah. She met Ren’s eyes and knew the Offering had also noticed
the behaviour of the gijan.

The Dragons flew slowly
on, holding back while the horsemen below negotiated a torturous
pass and a perilously steep descent the other side. Once through
the pass, the earthbound group could see what the Dragons had
already noted: endlessly arid desert lands again. Maressa was
relieved to find how effective the white cloaks were as the sun
climbed to its highest point. While by no means comfortable, she
was not tortured by the blazing heat as she had been on her
previous experience of desert travel.

‘Kirat says we will
halt soon,’ Ren bespoke Tika, and she looked down to see the horses
were at last picking their way along a flatter path.

With Farn spiralling
lower Tika stared back at the line of mountains marching from
horizon to horizon. Who would believe such a fertile, populous
Valley could possibly exist behind those forbidding
ramparts?

They camped amid vast
slabs of rock, some sharply edged as though sliced from the
mountainsides in some distant past. Large awnings were stretched
between such rocks, offering shade to people and animals alike.
Warned by their earlier journey, Seela insisted that Farn and Storm
take refuge from the heat beneath the awnings.

The dryness of the air
seemed to steal away any drop of moisture, even from their mouths
and eyes. No one wanted food yet, only a few swallows of water,
before lying down and trying to sleep. Tika drowsed against Farn,
only vaguely aware of the gijan curled against Storm, well away
from the Qwah.

She woke suddenly and
felt Farn’s steady breathing under her cheek. Moving her head a
little, she saw three small shapes silhouetted against a sky
streaked with sunset ribbons of high cloud. She blinked, her eyes
sore from sand grits. The gijan were hunched close around her but
she could see their dark eyes regarding her. Carefully, Tika pushed
herself up to a sitting position, never taking her own gaze from
the gijan. She tilted her head to one side and held out a hand
questioningly. What did they want?

One gijan shuffled
closer and a tiny three fingered hand rested on hers. He looked at
their lightly joined hands then lifted his other hand and pointed
to her chest. Tika’s mind whirled with speculation while with her
free hand she reached inside her shirt, tugging the oval pendant
out into sight. The chain was warm against her neck and she let the
amber fronted, gold backed egg swing gently. The gijan hand in hers
suddenly tightened its grip as breath hissed from all three of
them. Without warning, they all dropped forward, foreheads pressed
to the ground. Then they were gone, back behind Storm’s still
sleeping body.

From first twilight
they travelled relentlessly, stopping only for brief halts for the
horses to be given a little water and to have their feet and legs
checked for damage. The sky to their left was beginning to lighten
before Kirat let them stop again. They were still among the residue
of the mountains and Kirat chose a place where slabs of stone had
fallen across others, making half caves which would help them
shelter through the day.

This time Pallin and
Hadjay cooked a substantial meal which Kirat insisted all partake
of. Sirak disappeared for a while and returned with several sand
swimmers, the large lizards he’d found for the Dragons days ago on
their journey from the coast.

‘We have been well
provided with food since we entered your Valley,’ Brin told him.
‘We can survive well enough now until this desert is crossed. But
we thank you for your thought for us.’

Privately, Farn told
Tika that the sand lizards were extremely chewy and not
particularly flavoursome.

The Qwah fussed over
the horses, seeing to their comfort, checking for sores, as though
their were their children. Maressa commented casually on this fact
and earned severe looks from all three Qwah.

‘Do you think we could
so easily risk travelling these lands without our horses Lady?’
Hadjay demanded reproachfully. ‘They are more precious than our own
lives and must be treated so.’

They slept the day
away, aware when they occasionally roused of the fiery heat beyond
the awnings and the sheltering boulders. Hadjay distributed
handfuls of fruit and bowls of tea when they gathered, watching the
sun sink behind the mountains.

‘Have you often met
with the Survivors in the City Kirat?’ Ren enquired, sipping his
tea.

Kirat blanched. ‘No one
meets the Survivors except selected Keepers of the Sanctuary. It is
death to even enquire of them.’

‘But why? And we were
invited to meet them, and we’re still alive.’

Kirat frowned. ‘A
Keeper sent a message to me that we were to go to the great sea to
meet your company. To be directly asked to perform a particular
task for the Survivors is deemed great honour.’

‘How long have they
lived in your City though?’ Ren persisted. ‘The Domes have been
there far longer than the Survivors I would guess.’

Kirat stood up, still
white around his lips and swung onto his horse. ‘We must ride,’ he
called. Not waiting to see if the rest mounted up, he rode on along
a trail only he could see.

‘Perhaps such questions
could wait Ren? At least until we can see the end of this stars
forsaken desert.’ Olam grinned at the Offering. ‘Might be better
not to risk being abandoned, yes?’

Ren grinned back at the
Arms Chief. ‘Oh I think we’re safe enough – you heard him. He would
rather die than disobey the Survivors and it would appear that dear
Kertiss has ordered him to guide us south.’

‘I’d just as soon not
press our luck lad,’ Pallin grunted, pulling himself into his
saddle. But he winked as he rode past.

The next day they
cowered under the awnings while heat hammered mercilessly down from
the white sky. Even Seela and Brin were forced to squeeze their
massive bodies under the awning. Tika saw one of the gijan stumble
when he got to his feet in the late afternoon to prepare for their
night’s travelling. She watched the other two gijan press close to
the third, seeming to support him. She bit her lip and glanced
around, catching Ren watching her. He crossed to her
side.

‘Is there anything we
might do for them? I think they’re in trouble,’ he murmured,
watching the gijan huddle at the edge of the awning.

‘I think so too, but I
don’t know how to find out.’ Tika frowned. ‘Would you ask Hadjay if
he knows what might be wrong or how we might ease them? I’ll see if
I can get anywhere with them directly.’

‘Hadjay?’ Ren raised a
brow.

Tika nodded. ‘He’s the
most sympathetic of those Qwah I think. Oh and Ren – have you
noticed that smell of mint has come back?’

He scowled. ‘I’d hoped
it was just my imagination. It disappeared once we’d been in the
desert a couple of days from the coast, but I thought I smelt it
soon after we came out of that Valley.’

Ren moved between Riff
and Maressa, looking for Hadjay. Navan joined Tika at that moment.
He too watched the gijan.

‘What sort of creature
are they Tika?’ he asked.

She looked up into his
face. Once she had feared this man, Hargon’s second in command. Now
she counted him a true friend.

‘I don’t know but I
keep seeing a similarity to Mim, although perhaps that is only
because of their hands.’

‘But I don’t know Mim –
to me their hands are like the Dragons,’ Navan pointed
out.

Tika was startled:
Navan was right of course. And hadn’t Grek said the gijan had an
affinity with Storm?

‘Their skin is not like
Mim’s or the Dragons though,’ she countered. ‘I’m going to see if
they’ll speak to me or let me use mind speech Navan. Don’t let
anyone interrupt for a few moments.’

He nodded and watched
her walk over to the crouching figures. Sket touched his
arm.

‘Thought something was
wrong,’ he said. ‘Young Storm’s upset – look at him.’

Storm reclined near
Seela, but his eyes flashed grey and green: clearly he was
communicating some agitation to the adult Dragon.

‘Do you think they
might do better if we took them on horseback?’ Navan
wondered.

‘No I don’t. Haven’t
you noticed – they keep as far from the horses as they do from the
Qwah.’

Tika was kneeling by
the gijan now. She looked over her shoulder and beckoned urgently
to Sket. He hurried to her side then returned for the satchel that
rarely left his person. He was fumbling among its contents as he
went back to kneel beside Tika. As Navan watched, Kirat called them
to take down the awnings and prepare to ride. Then Gan was at his
shoulder, eyes fixed on Tika and Sket.

‘Stay and see if they
need any help Navan. I’ll get your horse readied.’

Navan saw Tika’s back
stiffen for a moment then she bent over the gijan again. The
awnings were down and being rolled into tight packs. Navan took a
step towards Tika but to his relief she got to her feet, holding a
gijan in her arms. The other two scurried across to Storm who
greeted them with a show of concerned affection. Sket thumped a
stopper back into the top of a pot and stowed it in his satchel. He
met Navan’s questioning gaze. The two men hurried to mount their
horses, and rode side by side at the tail of the group.

‘Dreadful,’ Sket
muttered, adding a few oaths for emphasis. ‘Skin drying out in
great blisters, poor soul.’ He patted his satchel. ‘Old Lorak gave
me all kinds of medicines, herbs and salves – mostly for Farn but I
hope the salves work on that poor creature. How it could have
lasted that ride last night without so much as a peep of complaint
I don’t know Navan, I just don’t know.’

He looked up as the
black shapes of the Dragons flew slowly overhead. They could see,
in the brilliant light of a million stars, Tika on Farn’s back
still cradling a small shape in her arms. The ground was less
strewn with large rocks now and Ren reined back, Sket and Navan
moving aside so he rode between them.

‘Tika asked me to see
if Hadjay knew anything of the gijan. She said she thought he was
the most sympathetic of the Qwah.’ Ren snorted in disgusted
contempt, his silvered eyes flashing between Navan and Sket. ‘He
said they were vermin,’ he said through gritted teeth.

‘You mind spoke Tika
with Hadjay’s words didn’t you?’ Navan remembered Tika’s sudden
rigidity.

Ren nodded.

‘I have done what I can
for the little one although it isn’t much more than Tika or the
Dragons can.’ Grek spoke in their minds. ‘The problem is that you
must get those gijan to Namolos. But if one dies out here, the
others will die also. They are litter mates.’

‘I do not understand,’
Navan complained helplessly. ‘Do gijan have litters as do mice or
hoppers?’

‘Exactly so. I have not
come across gijan before although I have heard stories, rumours.
They birth their children in litters numbering three to five. Very
occasionally they produce only one or two but the average number is
three.’ Grek paused. ‘It is essential that these three reach
Namolos with Tika. Khosa says that the fate of an entire race hangs
on the survival of these particular three.’ The unbodied entity
sounded rather peeved. ‘Khosa seems to know a great deal more than
she is willing to share with the rest of us.’