The Awakening (43 page)

But that was just one thought. It rose then subsided to be replaced by another. A face. A young girl with lavender eyes and wild, white-blonde hair stared at the High Priestess with pity in her eyes and a smile on her lips. The girl said something but the storm she had raised took the words away. Morag was left screaming, not knowing what the Danan would say to her.

Still screaming, she looked up at a wall of water that reared above her, poised to bear her down into the black depths. There, within the pitiless water, she saw a blaewhal.

It was swimming with the wave, surging through the waters of its home, revelling in the ferocity, finding basic joy in the wonder of unleashed power. The blaewhal, she knew, was a true creature of the waters. Not for it the cringing fear of waves, the running from the storm. The blaewhal knew and understood what she did not. It knew that
this
,
this
was life.

But the
Kelpie
did not die, not then. Rather it rose with the wave, riding over the wall to dive back down again, past the blaewhal, back down into the trough. And Morag kept screaming.

Declan
. The name, the face, suddenly blazed, beacon-like, across her mind, illuminating the darkness that had overwhelmed her. In this glimpse she saw his dark eyes, his sun-bleached hair, his callused hands that had so lovingly caressed her, his lopsided grin. His unquestioning love and support were all that had really sustained her. And she loved him. Needed him.
Where are you, my love?

But sanity was fleeting. Madness is forever. The terror of the storm struck back into her mind; another lightning flash ripped the darkness open, revealing a different scene. Amid the destruction, the shattered planks, the sundered ropes, the bodies, she saw a cleat, torn from the deck with ropes still wrapped around it, swinging towards her.

The brilliant light of lightning vanished, only to be replaced by the white-hot glare of agony as the cleat smashed into her side. She felt flesh tear and bones splinter. In the shocking pain she lost her grip on the mast.

Once more, the
Kelpie
surged up, driven over another icy wall. Morag, High Priestess of the Children of the Raft, slid screaming down the deck. She slid over broken planks, past splintered stays down towards the hungry storm. Her legs dropped over the side, her feet touched the water.

She stopped.

And looked up.

Declan had hold of her. He held her by the arm, keeping her out of the water, saving her life. Despite the violent heaving of the
Kelpie
, the battering of the wind and the blasts of thunder that still assaulted her senses, she could see only him. He spoke, and she could see his lips move, but could not hear him. Yet knowing that he spoke to her was enough.

She felt strangely safe, despite hanging over the edge of a battered ship in the midst of a storm, as Declan held her hand in his. With his other hand, he reached out to her, offering her the bleached white harp. He saw her grateful smile as her hand grasped it.

Morag gripped the harp, feeling its power stir as her hand closed on it. Even above the clamour of wind and wave she heard its song. Her heart was filled with love for Declan who understood, even now, her need for this. She tore her gaze from the harp to look into his eyes, to find bitter anger there. Disbelieving, she saw him mouth the words ‘Take it!’ as he released his hold on her.

To the north, the remnants of the Raiders’ fleet flew before the winds. They had seen the storm before the Children’s fleet and put on all sail in an attempt to escape. The
Merial
, the
Misty Seal
and the rest scythed through the water with the terror behind them.

Hwenfayre remained in the prow of the
Misty Seal
, never looking back, hardly aware of looking forward. She was lost, deep in the anguish of the Sea. A song was torn from her lips, a song she barely understood—but she was becoming conscious of its intent.

As had happened on the wall, she was losing herself in the power of the Sea, the mystical energy of which she was the avatar, the conduit. As she sang, the torment, the pained confusion she had felt as Morag and her Priestesses had driven the Sea to act as a weapon for their selfish bidding was slowly abating. In its place a vast anger was growing that threatened to overwhelm her. She knew she needed to break free and take herself back but she did not know how. Instead she sank deeper and deeper into her own power, a dark well of raw emotion that knew no diversion. It would take her completely,
emptying her of Hwenfayre, replacing her with only the Danan. Distantly, in a world beyond her, she heard the cries of seamen as they strove to put on yet more sail in an attempt to outrun the storm she was bringing upon them. She knew it was pointless. This storm would destroy them all. She knew because the storm was hers.

‘Hwenfayre!’ The voice cut across her thoughts as the hand grabbed her arm. Roughly she was wrenched around. ‘Hwenfayre!’ the man repeated. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Doing?’ she asked. ‘Nothing.’

‘I know that storm,’ the big man yelled. He shoved her harshly, making her look at the purple-black cloud. ‘That is not natural!’

She shrugged, hoping this interruption would go away so that she could return. But he would not, he kept talking at her, at times shaking her, insisting that she look at the storm. Why look at it? She knew it was there, she had called it.

And still she sang, without even being aware.

‘Hwenfayre,’ the rude man said again. ‘Look at me!’

She took her eyes off her storm and looked at him. He was a big man, heavy, with coarse, almost brutish features. His long black hair was whipped back by the harsh cold wind as it blew in from the sea. And he was afraid. But not of her, he was afraid of the storm. ‘Why are you afraid?’ she asked, her song stilling.

‘Hwenfayre, I have seen a storm like this, once before. We cannot survive.’

‘I will,’ she said. ‘I cannot die in the Sea.’

‘But you can die on it!’ another voice said.

She looked at the newcomer. He was also a big man, but dark-skinned and without any hair. She was confused. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

The second man did not answer, he drew a sword and raised it to Hwenfayre’s throat.

‘No!’ cried the first man, drawing his own sword. He swung his weapon, forcing the other sword away from her. With deliberation, he put his own bulk between them. ‘You will have to kill me first!’

‘I don’t have a problem with that, Wyn,’ the dark man said.

Wyn? I know that name,
Hwenfayre thought.
Why do I know that name?

‘Don’t make me hurt you, Sacchin,’ Wyn said. ‘But you touch her and I will kill you.’

‘She is killing us all anyway,’ Sacchin said. As he spoke, he lunged at Wyn.

Wyn was a fighting man and saw the trick, parrying the blow. Sacchin swung again. The two of them fought as the storm grew closer.

‘Why are you fighting?’ Hwenfayre asked. She knew there was something she should know, but her mind was still in thrall to the power of the Sea. Neither Wyn nor Sacchin answered. They continued to fight.

Others saw. Some drew their swords and advanced, some looked away, continuing to work to escape. Within moments, Wyn and Hwenfayre were surrounded by muttering, angry men. Sacchin lowered his sword and backed away, joining the others.

‘Let us have her, Wyn,’ Sacchin said. ‘We don’t want to kill you. But we will if we have to.’

‘Then kill me.’

Something inside Hwenfayre was screaming. Dimly she almost remembered, but the memory retreated as she grasped at it. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked.

‘Because you are my Princess,’ replied Wyn without turning around.

‘No,’ she said. ‘That’s not right.’

‘You are my Princess,’ he repeated.

Hwenfayre nodded. ‘Yes, I think I am. But that is not why you are doing this.’

‘I love you, my Princess,’ he said.

A wall crashed down at his words. Her mind returned. ‘You love me?’ she asked.

He still did not turn.

Her song had already ended, but as she saw him nod his head the pain and anger flooded out from her. In its place a new feeling grew. With it came understanding. She was not merely the Danan. She was Hwenfayre as well. And Hwenfayre knew what the Danan could not.

Hwenfayre knew love.

But as she looked at the horizon to the south she remembered that she also knew hate. And she had killed in hate, killed in revenge, killed in uncaring power.

The sudden knowledge was almost too much for her. With a cry of grief she crumpled to the deck, tears welling in her eyes.

‘No!’ she cried out. ‘This must stop!’ She did not hear Wyn drop his sword, neither did she hear the cry from the lookout, but she did feel Wyn’s arms as he gathered her to himself and lifted her up.

The storm blew itself out within hours, leaving the Raider fleet essentially untouched. They had lost three ships to the savagery of Hwenfayre’s vengeance, but it was a small cost compared to what had happened to the Children’s fleet.

There had been no question that they would turn south to seek to help any who might have survived. No matter that they had been enemies; there were people lost on the waters. The Southern Raiders went in search of the Children of Danan once more.

They came upon a scene of despair. Maybe a tenth of the mighty fleet of attack boats was afloat, and every one that still sailed was heavily damaged. Hundreds had drowned in the deep waters. Bodies floated, some still grasping the shattered remnants of their vessels. The Raider fleet rescued any they could, taking aboard shivering, terrified sailors and Priestesses. Most were too far lost in shock to tell their stories, but no one really wanted to know. None who sailed wanted this fate for a fellow seaman.

The Wrested Archipelago was scoured clean. Not a remnant of the Raiders’ settlement remained, but as the
Misty Seal
sailed close people started to appear from cracks and caves in the rock. They had not survived so far south without knowing how to escape wild seas, but even from the deck the Commander could see their faces. Despondency was etched into every brow. They would have to start again.

Hwenfayre stood motionless on deck. Every broken spar, every broken plank, every body tore a
new wound into her soul. She had done this. It was all her fault, and nothing could ever make it right. All around her she felt the stares of the Raiders, the silent watching. And every shaking Child of Danan they pulled from the water filled her with such guilt. So much guilt that she feared she would die of it.

No one spoke to her. Their eyes were filled with loathing, horror and fear in equal amounts. When they pulled aboard the plank bearing the name
Kelpie,
the tears finally came. She collapsed in sobs of anguish.

Or she would have collapsed had Wyn not held her close. His arms encircled her as she wept into his chest. There was nothing he could say, so he just held her.

Later, when they finally stopped looking for survivors, they turned north again. The few remaining attack boats limped along with them, sheltered by the Raider fleet.

The Commander spent hours on the journey talking with the only surviving Priestess. They were hesitantly exploring the possibility of peace. It was clear that the Children would not be a force on the sea again for a generation. And with a Princess returning to them, they had much to rebuild.

Hwenfayre heard them talking about her.

‘Wyn,’ she whispered. ‘I cannot go back with them.’

‘They are your people,’ he said. ‘They need you.’

‘No. They don’t. You saw what I did. You know what I can do. Power like mine is too dangerous.’

‘She’s right, Wyn,’ agreed Nolin. The Navigator had quietly joined them. He looked at Hwenfayre
with compassion in his eyes. ‘Power like yours is not needed now. Morag was wrong in what she did but right in what she tried to do. It is time for us to sort ourselves out without the ancient power.’

‘But what can we do?’ asked Wyn.

‘I know,’ said Hwenfayre. ‘We should run away. Far from here. Far from anyone that I can hurt.’

‘Do you think that is the best way?’ Wyn asked. ‘Can’t you just not use the power?’

Hwenfayre shook her head. ‘No. It is a part of me. And it always will be. Who knows when I might get angry again? I cannot do all that again. I just cannot.’

‘But to just run away…’

‘It’s the only way. All we need is somewhere that the world can be safe from me.’

‘I know a place,’ Nolin said. ‘I can take you.’

Shanek stared at the mountains ahead of him. They stood at the edge of his world. Beyond them stretched the Blight, a wind-blasted, icy wasteland where, legend told it, the Skrin Tia’k lived before the great wars. Now, it was believed that they had left their ancestral homeland deserted, but Shanek had detected too many knots heading north to accept this any more.

He had heard so many things over the past months that he dared not share with anyone. The Skrin Tia’k were a far more subtle species than he had ever suspected, and, he knew from his years of studying them, more subtle than anyone else suspected either. They lived in a complex society with an alien social structure that he had not even started to unravel, but one thing was clear: the enslaved Skrinnies were at the lowest end of their society. Beyond the Arc Mountains lived Skrin Tia’k who had never been slaves, and had never been seen by any Asan still alive.

Shanek knelt on the cold ground and rested his hands on the soil. So much pain had been felt here
over the centuries. It was here that the great battles of the Skrin Tia’k wars had been fought, it was here that so many bloody skirmishes had been fought and so many Skrinnies had been killed or taken. So much suffering. The Asan Empire believed it was still in control over this continent, but Shanek now wondered whether the Skrin Tia’k held the same view.

‘Tired already?’

Shanek leaped to his feet and spun around at the interruption. Ananda stood about ten paces away, regarding him quizzically.

‘What are you doing here?’ Shanek snapped.

‘Following you, what did you think?’

‘Why?’

Ananda shrugged. ‘Nothing else to do,’ she said.

‘Find something,’ Shanek said.

‘Don’t want to.’

Shanek was in turmoil. He knew how she regarded him, he didn’t need mystical powers for that, and he knew that she was an excellent tracker, but she would almost certainly die if she came with him. Even though he did not return her feelings, he did not want to be responsible for her death. Ever since she had faded from his awareness he had tried to keep away from her. He was in touch with the ground, and he had had no warning of her approach, and he had come to depend on his extra awareness. The last thing he wanted was someone close whom he could not sense.

‘I don’t want you, I don’t need you and I refuse to be responsible for you,’ he said harshly.

Ananda snorted. ‘Responsible for me? No one has ever been responsible for me.’

‘If you come with me, you will die, Ananda,’ Shanek said. ‘And if you die it will be your choice.’

Ananda nodded. ‘I know, Shanek. But I’ve watched you over the months and you know things. I don’t think I will die, not with you.’

‘You know where I’m going?’ Shanek turned and pointed at the Arc Mountains. ‘Beyond that lies the Blight, the ancestral homeland of the Skrin Tia’k. I am going to seek them out and destroy them.’

Ananda nodded again. ‘That’s fine with me. If I want to go and die in the Skrinnie homeland, it’s my choice.’ Her eyes went hard and the half-smile that characteristically played about her lips vanished. ‘But it
is
my choice, not yours.’

‘Fine,’ said Shanek. ‘Follow if you want.’ He started jogging away but a sudden shock of pain shot through his body.

Wrong! So wrong!

Shanek cried out in pain and fell to the ground. Beneath him the ground heaved in anguish. Like a knife, its suffering cut into Shanek and he lost consciousness.

It was nearly dawn when he stirred. Ananda sat cross-legged nearby, watching him. When she saw him open his eyes, she frowned.

‘What was that about?’ she asked.

Shanek shook his head and struggled to sit up. ‘Pain,’ he muttered. ‘So much pain.’

‘Are you injured?’ she asked.

‘Not me,’ Shanek said. ‘But something is in pain. Something over there.’ He gestured beyond the Arc Mountains. He lowered his eyes and regarded Ananda. She returned his gaze with guileless love. ‘If
you still want to make your own choice,’ Shanek said, ‘I am leaving.’

Ananda smiled and stood up. She held out her hand and offered it to Shanek. He took it and stood beside her.

‘Let’s hunt.’

Without a backwards look they started to run.