Survivors: Book 4 Circles of Light series Read online

  Survivors

  (Circles Of Light - Book Four)

  E.M. Sinclair

  Copyright 2006 by E.M. Sinclair

  Smashwords Edition

  In Memory Of

  F.K. 1880-1970

  M.H.I. 1920-2006

  For John and Ben, with love always

  Cover Painting - ‘Fenj’ by Bethan Town-Jones

  Cover Design by David Dempsey

  Chapter One

  The three Desert men were polite, generous with their supplies, but reticent about the exact location of the City they spoke of with such reverence. Wary of the fact that the three plainly used mind speech, Tika and Gan wandered away from the fire to the sea’s edge.

  ‘Unless we try to make our way back to Mist, I do not see we have any alternative to going with them,’ said Gan.

  ‘Their koninas look well fed, especially compared to our poor beasts, but will there be fresh meat for the Dragons? I don’t think we have a choice Gan. Khosa seems to know more about these men than I can account for. Perhaps she knows more about everything.’ Tika frowned. ‘I wish someone would explain – just once in a while – exactly what we’re supposed to be doing.’

  Gan chuckled. ‘Being Captain of the Lady Emla’s Guards was a bit like this,’ he admitted.

  They turned back towards the fire, the twilight closing around them.

  ‘We’ll hear soon enough if anyone strongly disagrees about our travelling to this City. I don’t look forward to all that sand though.’ Tika sat between Ren and Maressa. ‘Well, do we leave tomorrow then Kirat? And can you promise me there will be meat for our friends?’

  Farn’s head snaked over Tika’s shoulder, sapphire eyes whirring with enthusiasm. She curled her arm round his neck, giving him a brief hug. She hid a smile when she saw Storm copying Farn’s action on a rather startled Navan. To Navan’s credit, he cautiously rubbed Storm’s neck in return.

  The apparent spokesman of the three Desert men, nodded vigorously. ‘Our people keep goats, which we freely offer to feed the Dragon folk. We would ask that they accept our gifts. If they hunted for themselves among our small flocks, much panic would ensue and the goats would scatter and be lost.’

  The massive purple Seela replied graciously. ‘That would be perfectly suitable. Thank you Kirat.’ Her eyes dared the two young Dragons to argue the point.

  ‘You said it will take eight days to reach your City,’ Olam queried. ‘It must surely be a longer journey from the plains of Sapphrea into your Desert?’

  It was Hadjay who replied. ‘Indeed Sir Olam. Maybe three times as long that way.’ He gave a satisfied grin. ‘The grasslander people have no idea how to find water in our land and there is plenty of water – if you know how to seek it.’

  Olam’s face revealed a certain scepticism. ‘I’ve heard tales of nomads following strayed animals, or pursuing the giant hunting Kephis when they’ve stolen too many from the flocks. But those who venture in among the Biting Sands never return.’

  His words were met with laughter, white teeth gleaming in Hadjay’s dark face. ‘We keep watch all around our land Sir Olam. And generally we kill intruders.’

  The company digested that remark in silence.

  ‘Then why do you appear to welcome us?’ It was Maressa who asked the obvious question.

  ‘We have been told who you are. The Survivors ask us to guide you to them.’

  All three Desert men bowed their heads. ‘It is our great honour.’

  ‘We leave before sunrise,’ Kirat announced, and unrolled the blanket he’d been sitting on. ‘It takes eight days to the Valley, but they are eight long, hard days.’

  Ren lay back on his blankets, staring up at the millions of stars flung across the sky. He heard Gan murmur quietly to Olam, and then Pallin and Riff talking about the strangers’ koninas.

  ‘Same as our beasts but much finer.’ Pallin was saying. ‘Bred for that lightness of bone looks like. And probably for the white colour. Like to talk to someone who has the breeding of them if we get to this dratted City.’

  Ren fell asleep before he heard Riff’s reply and knew nothing more until someone shook him in the dark before dawn.

  They drank tea standing ready to mount and ride. Sirak handed out cloths to put over their heads, as all three Desert men already wore. Tika was surprised that Khosa had made no comment since they’d encountered these men and now climbed into her carry sack without demur.

  Personally, since the Silver One had spoken to her, Tika had felt a calm acceptance. Gremara had told her she must trust. Tika argued that trusting people was a risky thing in her experience. Gremara asked if her companions had so far betrayed her and Tika fell silent. Although the Silver One had spoken to each companion separately, no discussion or revelation of what they’d been told, had occurred.

  A few days after leaving Mist’s Flight of Sea Dragons, Tika found she could accept whatever lay ahead. Seeing her beloved soul bond’s increasing confidence, his delight in his wild games with Storm, she decided whatever did lie ahead was worth these days of careless joy for Farn.

  Kirat set a steady pace, trotting the koninas where the ground allowed. He had given Pallin grain for the companions’ mounts, welcome after many days of short rations. They made a good distance before the sun came up and then discovered the Desert was much hotter than had been the lands they’d traversed from Far to the coast. Ren tried to explain that they were a lot further south, which would mean an increase in heat, but abandoned his attempt to educate them in basic natural science. Only Maressa understood his words and she was too hot to try to simplify Ren’s explanation.

  They rode until mid morning, seeing little except the rise and fall of endless dunes, but when Kirat called a halt, they saw a faint smudge of rising hills ahead. The Desert men raised awnings and nodded approval when they saw Pallin and Riff doing the same.

  ‘We brought extra cloth in case you had nothing to protect yourselves through the heat of the day. We will stay here until the sun is well on its way down.’

  The Dragons were not bothered by the heat, not even Storm so far. Tika had been worried that, used as he was to the proximity of the sea and diving into it as he did, he would find this waterless place hard to cope with. Sprawled gratefully in the small shade of the awnings, they watched in some bewilderment while Sirak prowled slowly in front of them, at intervals pushing a long pole into the sand. Eventually, he went to his knees, dragging scoops of sand from around the upright pole. Kirat joined him and Ren ventured out into the fierce heat to watch them. He peered down into the rapidly deepening excavation, then straightened. He rejoined the others in the shade.

  ‘Water,’ he said succinctly.

  ‘Water? Never!’ Olam went to investigate as well and returned grinning. ‘Stars be blessed! How did he know where to dig? There’s quite a little pool there.’

  ‘I’d guess he felt a difference when the pole hit firmer sand.’ Ren rested his chin on his drawn up knees. ‘Fascinating though.’

  The four Dragons watched with interest as the first leather bucket of water was dragged from the sand. Storm crept closer, and closer, Tika watching with amusement to see how Sirak would react when he discovered the young Sea Dragon craning over him. She laughed aloud when Sirak turned and came nose to nose with Storm. Storm’s eyes whirred a slate grey colour and he ducked his head in embarrassed apology. But Sirak smiled and bowed his own head, plainly mind speaking the young Dragon.

  They travelled on when the worst of the heat had lessened, until a considerable time after nightfall. Kirat clearly used stars for guidance and led them unerringly and with no hesitation. Hadjay vanished when they halted next
midday, reappearing with six large odd looking lizards dangling from his hand. He grinned.

  ‘Sand swimmers. Good eating.’

  He offered the Dragons one each, and after some cautious sniffing, they accepted the strange meat with enjoyment.

  The third day was blisteringly hot. The air shimmered and wavered whichever direction they looked. The hills, which they’d thought were nearing, now seemed to change position – one moment ahead of them, the next nearly behind.

  ‘It is normal here,’ Hadjay assured them. He pointed ahead. ‘Squeeze your eyes near shut and you see the real hills.’

  The fourth day found Storm tiring. Farn warned Tika but Seela had already noticed and kept him beneath her outspread wing when they stopped in the heat of the day. Her shelter revived him and so the company moved on. Pallin pointed out to Navan and Riff that they’d die if the Desert men left them now.

  ‘I couldn’t find water like they do, and probably no trail.’

  They turned in their saddles and could not be sure which dune they had just descended. Navan shrugged.

  ‘Best follow them then and hope they like our company.’

  Maressa flew with Brin, finding the breeze helped a little against the heat which she suffered worst of them all. Farn insisted he carry Tika at least part of each day, then allowing her to fly with Seela while he played with Storm. In her carry sack Khosa remained silent. Tika presumed the Kephi slept most of each day. The nights were surprisingly cold and Khosa disappeared for most of the time the travellers slept.

  The fifth day they began to climb switchback hills each a little higher than the last and where rock showed in places through the sand. Ahead, they saw only more brown peaks rising from the sea of sand. When Kirat called a halt that night, the Dragons were excited, rattling their wings and occasionally calling aloud to each other. Tika smiled at Kirat across the small fire he made each night.

  ‘We saw lights several leagues on – is that your City?’

  Kirat shook his head. ‘We have small communities ringing the City, but they are of only a few farming families.’

  ‘Farming?’ Pallin asked in disbelief. ‘We’ve seen only the poorest grasses, and those rubbery things.’

  ‘Cacti,’ Sirak helpfully supplied the name.

  ‘Yes those.’ Pallin scowled. ‘You don’t mean you farm those?’

  The Desert men laughed. ‘You have been grateful for the water the cacti can supply Pallin. But no, we farm the same sort of crops as you I daresay. We have no large cattle but we have goats, and fowls provide eggs.’

  Next day their trail rose sharply, now mountainous rather than hilly, over brown and grey rock covered with a thin dusty soil. From the greater vantage of Farn’s back, Tika saw a sudden splash of green ahead of them and guessed they would reach this area by nightfall. But instead of halting as usual when the heat intensified, Kirat urged them on, over a last short narrow pass and then down towards a greenness further below than they might have imagined.

  Descending a winding track, the mountains rose above them in sharp peaks and jagged outlines. The Dragons stayed high overhead: Tika was unsure of their reception by the Qwah people, despite Kirat’s assurances of welcome. The riders with Kirat noticed the trail was becoming better defined the lower they went. Also, to their considerable relief, at last they were riding in some shade where the sun was blocked by the high ridges. The path twisted between wind scoured towers of rock and they had their first sight of a bowl like depression, perhaps two leagues across, planted with a variety of crops.

  To their left as they wound down to the flat, were clustered several buildings. On closer inspection, they realised that the seven buildings were in fact linked to each other by walls rising to roof level of the two storied buildings leaving an open courtyard inside. They saw people moving in there, but then the koninas snorted and tossed their heads, scenting water.

  Round the final curve of the path and they saw water gushing from beneath overhanging rocks which were festooned with feathery green plants. Kirat turned in his saddle and smiled. He gestured at the water, out at the cultivated land, and at the group of men, women and children coming towards them.

  ‘Welcome to the lands of the Qwah.’

  Tika’s company were greeted with apparently warm enthusiasm and the Dragons accepted with an astonishing equanimity. Several children darted forward as the Dragons reclined and they showed no fear of the two enormous adults, hands outstretched to touch and stroke. They chattered in the liquid trilling language Kirat had first used, but Seela informed Tika at once that these children mind spoke too. All of them.

  The hot dirty travellers were urged into one of the buildings and offered pottery mugs of a cold fruity drink which soothed parched lips and dry throats wonderfully. The men were taken in one direction by Kirat and his brothers and two elderly women invited Maressa and Tika, with beckoning hands, to an adjoining windowless room which they discovered, to their delight, to be a bathing room.

  ‘I could stay here forever,’ Maressa announced sinking blissfully into the warm water. She groaned with pleasure when one of the Qwah women began massaging her body with strong hands.

  They found themselves scrubbed and rinsed and were then pulled from the water to be pummelled and towelled before being covered in a light fragrant oil which the Qwah women kneaded into their skins. In the short time they’d been bathing, Maressa and Tika discovered their clothes had been brushed and shaken free of sand. Dressed again, they were led into another room which had windows and doors opening into the central courtyard. The open space was sharply divided between blackest shade and blazing sunlight.

  The men were sitting on brightly patterned carpets in the shaded area, dishes and platters heaped with colourful foods before them. Ren smiled at the two girls.

  ‘What a relief to be clean again.’

  ‘And cool for a few minutes,’ Maressa agreed with feeling.

  Qwah men and women joined the company, kneeling on the overlapping rugs while children hovered on the edges. Tika started to rise in sudden consternation: Farn and Storm swooped over the roofs to land within the courtyard. Farn hurried towards her, Storm at his heels. Before Tika could apologise or explain, an elderly Qwah raised his hand. He spoke haltingly in the common tongue.

  ‘Do not reprimand the young one Lady. We understand his need to be with you. Please, continue your meal.’

  Tika stared at the man then subsided onto the carpet again. Farn reclined behind her, his long beautiful face resting on her head. Just what did these people know? A very great deal it would seem, Tika thought, her eyes unexpectedly meeting Khosa’s blue stare.

  ‘They brought some goats for us,’ Farn told Tika confidentially then his eyes whirred faster as the Qwah people chuckled.

  Storm crept closer to lean against Navan. The food was plentiful: vegetables, goat and fowl meat, cheese and several fruits unknown to the company. Tika ate, letting talk wash over her. Both Gan and Ren asked many questions about the ways of this small community and were answered, apparently freely by both men and women. Women were clearly regarded as equals here, Tika noted, quite unlike the customs of Sapphrea.

  Kirat got to his feet. ‘We can stay no longer,’ he said. ‘We have many leagues to go before we can rest tonight.’

  Gan rose to his great height and saluted the Qwah elders, right hand to his left shoulder. ‘We thank you for your hospitality. Should you ever travel to Gaharn be assured your kindness will not be forgotten.’

  The oldest man of the community laughed. ‘Unlikely that is tall one, but your mannerly words are appreciated.’

  The sky was a deepening blue in contrast to the searing bone white of midday as the company followed Kirat along the edge of neat fields. He took them to the further end of the cultivated land and then the trail rose again, winding back and forth until they reached a narrow pass. Olam glanced back and smiled to himself, seeing the green land was completely hidden once again.

  ‘Never find that p
lace in a million cycles,’ Pallin grunted, riding up beside Olam when the trail widened.

  ‘Indeed not,’ Olam agreed. ‘Very clever.’

  They travelled until Gan estimated a third of the night had passed, the four Dragons staying close just above the konina riders. What had seemed like yet more tilted slabs of rock, dully grey in the starlight, resolved into a long low shelter where Kirat called a halt. All the companions were tired, choosing to wrap themselves in their blankets and sleep with no thought of food.

  Tika released Khosa from her carry sack and pulled a blanket round her shoulders. She yawned hugely and turned towards Farn. By the time she had settled herself against his shoulder, Khosa was back, pressing close under Tika’s chin.

  ‘This is wrong.’

  The Kephi’s mind voice was soft as her fur. Tika was instantly alert, realising Khosa was keeping her communication tightly controlled so that she alone would hear her.

  ‘These are not the ones we should have met.’

  ‘It’s a bit late to tell me that now,’ Tika’s mind whispered back. ‘What must we do? Are these men and their City dangerous for us?’

  Khosa was silent for a while. ‘They are taking us to a Survivor, but not the one we should be meeting.’

  ‘I don’t understand – how many Survivors are there for stars’ sake? And are they enemies to each other then?’

  Again there was a pause before Khosa replied. ‘Enemies, no, but they have very different ideas as to how they may achieve their aims, and their aims are not quite the same either.’

  ‘And how many Survivors did you say there are?’ Tika prompted.

  Khosa’s eyes glittered in the starlight. ‘I didn’t. But there are three in this City. I will warn the others that they must beware. All of these Qwah people seem able to mind speak – your thoughts must be guarded. And I will tell Grek to remain silent from now on.’ The orange Kephi arched her back and whisked her tail across Tika’s face before leaping lightly down and padding towards the building.