Perilous Shadows: Book 6 Circles of Light Read online

  Perilous Shadows

  (Circles Of Light - Book Six)

  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 - ‘Seela’ by Bethan Town-Jones

  Cover Design by David Dempsey

  Chapter One

  Rhaki woke. Again. He was still badly confused. His last memories were of his flight from the Menedula building in Drogoya and the purely evil presence of Cho Petak. Bewildered and afraid, he fled across the sea until he reached the mountains north of Gaharn and Sapphrea. Unbodied as he was, his essence had squeezed down, through crevices in the ice skinned rock. Finally he’d rested, his thoughts whirling in a kaleidoscope of panicked horror until everything vanished into a cloud of black unknowingness.

  Rhaki had woken slowly, lazily, and snuggled closer under thick furs. It had taken some time for him to realise that, having no body, he should not be aware of either the sensation of snuggling or of fur covers. He opened eyes he shouldn’t have and saw faint shadows flickering on a rough stone wall a handspan from his face.

  ‘Thought you’d never wake, and after all my efforts.’

  An old voice spoke from somewhere behind him. Cautiously, Rhaki moved onto his back and turned his head, seeking the owner of the voice. He saw a small hearth containing a smouldering fire – the sort of fire that was intended to stay alight for a considerable time. He blinked, and a formless shape drifted between him and that fire.

  ‘If you are awake, you’d better stir the fire up. There’s still snow outside, the fire mustn’t go out and I can’t do it anymore.’

  Rhaki tried to sit up but his limbs felt strange; the wrong size, and definitely not as strong as they should be.

  ‘Who are you? Where am I?’ His voice was wrong too, lower toned than he remembered.

  A chuckle came, Rhaki realised, from the grey shape now hunched beside the fire. Rhaki caught sight of his hands in the dim light and was momentarily distracted by their unfamiliarity. They were broad, with stubby fingers, and white hairs sprouted from several swollen knuckles. Another chuckle pulled his attention back to the shape by the fire.

  ‘Well, you can’t have everything you know. I found you when I was dream walking. I’ve learned quite a bit about you, more that I wanted to know, truth be told.’

  Rhaki shivered. He pushed the furs off his knees and tried to stand. He managed it on the fourth attempt, tottered unsteadily to the fire, and knelt involuntarily. A blackened stick lay in the hearth and he used it to poke the fire.

  ‘I’ve lived up here for years,’ the voice continued. ‘But when I found you, the idea came to me.’

  The fire suddenly flared into a cheerful blaze and Rhaki added a log to it from a stack against the wall.

  ‘After all this time, I want to see more of this world, before it’s too late. So. You have my body, a selection of my memories relevant to this area, and I – I choose to be free.’

  Rhaki raised a trembling hand and rubbed his face, discovering he had a soft beard in the process.

  ‘But where am I?’

  ‘Oh this is Drogoya. I found you far across the sea and I’d like to go back there.’

  Although the ghostly outline was murky, undefined, Rhaki had the definite impression it was staring at him, intently.

  ‘Listen carefully. I’m not staying here much longer – I want to be off. There are several caves leading from this one and there is food and fuel to last until the thaw. I’ve left you some maps and books, nothing that will identify me though.’ The chortle of laughter was gleeful. ‘I turned from the Menedula with its Sacrifice, and its Offerings and all their nonsense ages ago. They’ll have listed me as dead if they remember me at all.’

  ‘Cho Petak is not what he might have seemed.’ Rhaki’s voice was a croak.

  ‘Huh. Knew that as soon as he arrived. That’s why I came up here. Out of everyone’s way. Well. I think that’s it then. I’ll be off.’

  ‘But wait.’ Rhaki was seized with panic. ‘Can’t I use your name, if you’ve given me your body? And what about any family?’

  ‘Oh don’t babble so, can’t abide babblers. Never could. Your name is Rhaki, and you know, all too well, who you are and what you’ve done in your long life. I’ve had no family since my ninth summer. You should perhaps think of yours, and what you’ve done with them.’

  Rhaki knelt, stunned, as the ghost moved towards a narrow gap in the wall to his left.

  ‘Oh, a bear or a wolf might turn up. Friends of mine. Shouldn’t hurt you but perhaps you should be a bit wary. And very polite.’

  ‘But - ’ But the sudden emptiness in the air told Rhaki he was now entirely alone.

  He stared into the leaping flames then became aware of a stabbing pain in his feet and ankles under him. He groaned and tried to stand, whimpering as the circulation burned back through his legs. He flexed his feet and shuffled towards the gap through which the ghostly stranger had vanished. As his hand gripped the side of the space, he saw the wall was made of split timbers patchily covered with clay or mud. A length of heavy leather hung across the gap which he pulled aside. He found himself in the entrance to the cave. Logs were piled neatly against the man made wall and a few paces outward he looked out upon snow.

  A pale grey sky hung over low peaks and those peaks and the narrow valley ahead of Rhaki were heaped and filled with an endless carpet of snow. To his right, a fir tree stood motionless, its needles hidden, its branches dipping to the ground under its burden of snow and ice. Belatedly he realised his feet were bare and that he wore only a long thin gown. He turned back into the inner cave, hoping he’d find a good supply of sturdy clothes.

  His body tingled as he entered the cosy room again and his stomach rumbled when he smelled food. Rhaki discovered a large, lidded clay pot pushed close to the side of the fire. Removing the lid, he sighed with unaccustomed pleasure as the steam rose, bringing the promise of a hot meat stew.

  It took Rhaki a few days to settle, into both his new body and his new surroundings. He had never, in his hundreds of years of life, had to do anything so mundane as to prepare food for himself for instance. Once his predecessor’s stew had been eaten, he’d had to concoct meals by trial and error. He found a supply of light stones in a box under the bed and had ventured back into the smaller caves which led from the main room. As he’d been told, he found dried meat, vegetable, grains and nuts stored along with bunches of herbs and more neat stacks of logs.

  He wondered about the large amount of supplies until he looked outside on the second day to find nothing but a wall of snow and ice pellets hissing through the air. As far as he could judge time, the storm lasted four days before it abated to a few flakes drifting continuously in front of the cave. He found the cave to be clean and tidy. He guessed the “ghost” had sorted through every item before making that final move to vacate his body and install Rhaki in his own place.

  He found maps as promised and notebooks. He’d hoped the notebooks would give him some insight into the writer, but discovered they held meticulous observations of the immediate vicinity. Here were notes and sketches of plants, birds, and insects, of the different positions of the stars, of the weather. All clearly dated by a system unknown to Rhaki. The records went back year upon year, written in an archaic script but a recognisable form of the common tongue of Rhaki’s own lands. He also found, as he’d hoped, a chest full of workmanlike, and warm, clothes.

  Rhaki spent those first days becoming adjusted to this body, learning
to cook, and skimming the notebooks for any hint of personal references. He made no attempt at all to test his mental powers, fearing that they may have been lost, or were still intact. He couldn’t decide which would be preferable in this strange new life he found himself in.

  By the time the storm had eased down, he was moving around more naturally. He was far shorter now than he’d been in his Asatarian form; about average for human he guessed. This body was much older, but lean, still fit and muscled, although he noticed aches in his hands and feet at odd moments. Rhaki abandoned the notebooks for now and spent most of his time studying the maps he’d been left. They were incredibly detailed and he believed they were probably more accurate than most maps he’d ever seen before.

  One map showed his present location, with the cave marked in the very centre. Rhaki saw there was a group of seven tiny buildings beyond the end of the valley which stretched from the front of the cave. It looked as if the buildings occupied a small clearing, perhaps a tiny community existing on a few crops supplemented by hunting, but certainly not large enough to merit the name of a village.

  Gradually Rhaki became used to this life, so very different from anything he’d experienced before. He grew accustomed to the sounds the wind made, whistling and roaring, and to the days and nights of silence when the wind died and then the only sound outside was the creak and groan of the fir beside the cave. He heard no birdsong, and saw nothing living, just the frozen snow which glittered and glared under the occasional sun, and winked and sparkled beneath a waxing moon.

  But he woke one morning to something different. He lay among the furs and listened. Then he realised he could hear dripping. He’d lived so long in the Northern Stronghold, a place where spring rarely ventured, that it took him a moment to understand the noise. He dressed, stirred the fire up to a blaze and hurried to peer outside. There was little difference to see yet, just a hint of green needles showing through the snow on the tree, but the air smelled different. There was a bitter tang to it, a hint of cold earth.

  So the days passed and Rhaki became aware one evening, when the wind howled once more outside his cave, that he was content, more content than he’d ever been. He’d found a growing comfort in studying the notebooks, reading of where the earliest flowers might bloom, the first birds might fly overhead to their breeding grounds even further north, and when the small rodents first emerged from their winter sleep.

  Now, for the first time, he wondered if his powers remained with him. It was so many centuries since those first lessons, but he decided he should make this new attempt in touching his power by using the simple basic steps he’d been instructed in. Staring into the fire, he concentrated, pulling the net of his mind close around him. He would attempt a far seeing, try to view those clustered buildings beyond the valley’s end. He released a tendril of focused power out, towards the cave entrance.

  Rhaki felt a brief spasm of pain, like using an arm for the first time after it had been broken. Then he was over the snowy landscape, entranced by the brilliant stars above and the glitter on the snow below. He realised he would need to practise these long disused skills as he felt his body shudder, back beside the hearth in the cave. Rhaki released his hold on the power and his awareness crashed back.

  He felt as though an explosion had ripped through his skull even as he toppled off the stool and lay gasping on the floor. But he grinned. He could still reach out to the power and feel it respond to his call. Rhaki heaved himself upright and swung the pot over the fire to boil water for some tea. But this time, he must decide which path he would choose in the using of his power.

  Only a few leagues south of Rhaki’s cave, but many more leagues west, the Oblaka complex was slowly being rebuilt. Most buildings had been destroyed totally by Cho Petak. During the harsh winter of the north western coast, the survivors of those attacks and the refugees who’d trickled in, sheltered in the labyrinths below ground. Since Tika and her company arrived eight days earlier, the spring weather had been beaten back by a furious renewed onslaught of winter.

  The Dragons had squeezed themselves as far as they could into the cave beyond a ledge which had been widened when Kadi had first arrived. Braziers had been brought to try to alleviate the worst of the chill, although the Dragons made no complaint. The old Observer, Babach had told them that the weather would begin to improve the very next day, and Tika sincerely hoped he would be proved right.

  She was sick of tunnels and caves although she had to admit, at least there were very few stairs in this place. She’d grown to detest the mighty staircases within the Karmazen Palace. At least the enforced rest inside the Oblaka complex had allowed her to regain some of the weight she’d lost and she had to admit to feeling a great deal better. During these days, she had listened rather than talked. She was worried by the fact that Finn Rah and her people appeared to know nothing of the Splintered Kingdom, or of Namolos, or the danger that an outside power was presently threatening them with. Tika’s name was known among the Oblakan community but she said nothing at all of Kelshan or the Dark Realm.

  Sergeant Essa’s towering presence was explained by vague reference to the fact that she came from one of the tribes on the southern continent. Shivan’s gold eyes, once noticed, were similarly dismissed as the result of mage training among those same tribes. Finn Rah seemed unconcerned about such matters; all her concern was focused on Drogoya, the devastation of the land and the people. Once Tika understood this, she made no mention of her own reasons for being here.

  There was little chance to discuss this turn of events with her people because they were always surrounded by members of the Oblakan community. It was a relief therefore, when Babach’s prediction was proved correct and the weather became almost balmy overnight.

  Mena, the child stolen from a Lord of Sapphrea and held in enormous regard by the Oblakans, appeared wary of Tika. Tika had sensed instantly that the girl who she’d met only briefly in Sapphrea, had a considerable amount of power at her command. She also knew that Mena’s power was but a minute fraction compared to her own abilities. Tika felt there was a sort of local definition to Mena’s strength: if the girl returned to Sapphrea, Tika suspected her powers would be greatly diminished, although how or why that should be, she couldn’t work out.

  It was with a feeling almost of escape on the afternoon of the ninth day that many left the caves to wander above ground. Tika and her companions walked away from the ruined buildings and reached the cliffs which overlooked the sea to the west and the empty town of Oblaka to the south. The breeze was gentle at last and the sun was warm. Storm and Brin had gone down to the beach, Kija and Kadi reclined against a half fallen wall and basked. Farn paced steadily at Tika’s side.

  By unspoken consent, they sat along the cliff top, well out of earshot of anyone. Shea was the first to speak.

  ‘I wish Gossamer was here.’

  Tika was surprised by the remark but Shea continued.

  ‘You know I’ve been exploring everywhere – no one seemed to mind where I went. But there was one room that I went in and that girl Mena told me off. She said I had no right to be there.’

  Farn’s eyes began to whir a deeper blue and Tika rested a hand against his chest.

  ‘Mena told you off?’ she asked incredulously.

  Shea nodded, glancing back towards the ruins.

  ‘But was there anything particular about the room – maybe it was her own, her private place?’

  Shea’s short dark curls, so like Tika’s own, tossed as she shook her head.

  ‘It was empty. No furniture. Nothing. Just the painting all around the walls, like in The Bear’s den.’

  Sergeant Essa’s filed teeth gleamed pale purple when she grinned. ‘You show me this room Shea. No one tells ME off.’

  ‘Not even the Sword Master?’ teased Corim.

  Essa’s grin widened into a leer. ‘He wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘Do you mean the painting was exactly the same?’ Tika asked.

  She
a frowned in thought. ‘Not exactly the same, but there are Dragons on it. The Bear’s picture showed hunters, and people being buried and things. I didn’t have long to look at it, but it had a man in several places, planting trees, and fields, all in straight lines.’

  ‘Sedka.’ Ren identified for them. ‘He is said to have founded the Menedula and the rule of the Sacrifice.’ He glanced from face to face. ‘I’m sorry Tika, but I feel out of place here. No,’ he added hurriedly. ‘Not with all of you. Finn Rah and Babach and the others. They are worried about all the people: I quite understand that. You know I’ve been worried too. But they seem locked in only the troubles here, they have no thought of any wider worries.

  ‘Babach has told them much of what happened in the Northern Stronghold. Mena told them more than enough about her experiences in the Menedula with Cho Petak, yet all that seems to have no effect on their thinking. I find it hard to believe that Babach, at least, hasn’t seen the connections of all these separate horrors.’

  ‘Perhaps you’ve travelled too far Ren, seen too much more of this world,’ Tika said in an attempt to offer some comfort to his obvious distress.

  He sighed. ‘Maybe. But I cannot stay here as it is now.’

  Brown silvered eyes met green silvered eyes.

  ‘My path lies with you now. Completely.’

  Tika let a small silence fall then she spoke on a different subject. ‘This painting Shea saw – do you know of it?’

  Ren shook his head. ‘Never heard of its like. You say there is a picture in the village you stayed at?’

  ‘Essa’s village. A huge painting, all round the room. And the other tribes have similar pictures.’

  Sket gave Ren a quick glance then went back to tugging up pieces of the short, salt burnt turf. ‘What do you reckon of that child then, Ren? I get the feeling she’s the chief here – makes all the decisions.’