A Skillful Warrior (SoulNecklace Stories Book 2) (27 page)

I drifted closer, but he did not see me. I was a ghost to him, something from another time, another place.

Warily, he walked to the waterless pond, stepped onto the stone plinth. He opened the satchel and unwrapped the small package within. The dagger! In the white moonlight the jade seemed as delicate as porcelain. He stroked the pommel gently, then wrapped it again, tucking the cloth into a neat package. The young man put it back into the satchel and slowly unhooked the satchel from about his shoulders, as if reluctant to let it go. Then he sighed and bent forwards to the dry pond.

Feeling for the join at the base of the stone, the young man pushed the satchel into the crack. He must have measured it carefully, for it fitted perfectly.

The moon shone into my eyes, and I blinked.

And now it was daylight and the sun was high. The courtyard was full of bare-chested tradesmen, sweating in the noonday sun. In the empty pond stood a man with a flat board piled high with white mortar. He troweled it onto the plinth.

The apprentice fussed about him like a gnat. ‘Careful. It needs to be watertight. Are you sure it will be watertight?’

Wearily, the mortar-man nodded. ‘Let me do my task, master, as you do yours.’

Grunting, slaves pushed a cart into the courtyard. Its wheels rattled over the stone cobbles. On it lay something tall and heavy and shrouded in white cloth. Sweating, they lifted it slowly from the cart. The cloth fell away, and there it stood on the courtyard: a silver statue, carved in the shape of the tree. The apprentice hurried towards it, rubbing his hand along its shiny surface, caressing the whorls and curves engraved along its branches.

‘Lift the statue, like this. Carefully.’

Grunting, the slaves lifted the heavy thing and placed it on the plinth. They worked it carefully into position, until it stood like a tree in the center of the courtyard. The hollow at its heart met the hollow in the stone, where the pipe emerged.

The sun struck the silver, blinding me. I blinked.

Eventime, and the courtyard was crowded with bright-robed people. Jugglers tossed balls and minstrels played on strange stringed instruments. Stallholders served food from steaming pots. Laughing, children clambered on the pool’s carved edge and reached into the water to throw it at each other. There was an air of festival, of expectation; heads turned to one end of the courtyard as if watching for something.

Suddenly, there was a blare of trumpets. The children ran back to their parents and clambered onto their shoulders. It was a procession; a cavalcade of horses dressed in fine cloth and bright metal. Their hooves smacked sparks from the cobbles and they trotted proudly in the sun. The crowd cheered and tossed flowers.

Slaves carrying a palanquin enshrouded in white silk followed the horses. The crowd grew silent, then fell to the ground, prostrating themselves on the cobbles. The fountain burst into life, spraying water like a fine mist. And the light from the setting sun struck the water, turning it to gold, as the curtains of the palanquin blew open. The old man within stirred and the water drops swirled around him, so for a moment he seemed wreathed in light. He yawned and stretched and the curtains heaved like wings. This was the Eternal One, the dragon at the heart of the Stronghold. I blinked.

And the people were gone, the courtyard empty. Only the fountain remained, standing like a silver tree shining in the sun. There was a secret in the roots of that tree. A secret meant for me.

‘And now you know,’ whispered Wynne, ‘where the dagger has gone.’

***

I
roused, waking into darkness. There was no noise save my breath and the thudding of my heart. There was only I and the Guardians, who were part of me.

‘Sleep,’ they murmured. ‘Sleep, child.’

And I slept; and I dreamed.

***

R
osa stood at her window, staring out at the Castle walls and the forest beyond. The leaves were winding towards autumn, the first faint touch of yellow lightening the green.

She didn’t move. ‘Hello, Dana.’

‘Rosa.’

Crows cawed and faintly, I heard the sound of axes. The woodsmen were preparing for the coming season. She wore the necklace. The light scattered from the gems, casting rainbows on the ceiling, and the blood-red ruby swung at the end of the chain.

‘I’ve been dreaming ...’ I rubbed my eyes. ‘Have I been asleep?’ Seemed that this whole dratted journey was one long nightmare. Maybe I would wake and find myself in my own bed. Suddenly I felt desperately homesick. ‘How is Nurse?’

Rosa smiled. ‘She’s worried about you.’

We sat in silence for a time. Around the tower crows circled, crying their news to each other. The air was fresh, the breeze cool.

Reluctantly, I realized the truth; I was still inside my dream. The waking had yet to happen. ‘Is Will all right?’

Rosa smiled, nodded. ‘N’tombe is with him.’ She lifted the glass globe from its resting place on the shelf. You can see him, if you wish.’

I stared into the globe. The whole world was reflected in here, turned upside down inside the glass. Small bubbles, tiny imperfections in the glass, looked like falling snow. They seemed to spin as I watched, and I followed their dancing, trying to track their path.

And then the image cleared and I saw Will, standing on the deck of a ship, his eyes covered with a blindfold. Sea foam sprayed about him and the wind blew his hair into his face. There was a knife in his hand and a sword at his side.

‘What’s he doing?’

‘Learning to see,’ she said.

‘How can he see when he’s got a blindfold on?’

‘Because, child, sometimes the eyes are a distraction.’

In the glass Will brandished his sword. It looked like he was waving at me. I smiled, and dipped a finger back. He lifted his knife in salute, or in defense. My vision widened and I saw the ship, bobbing on the waves, two figures dancing with blades towards each other. TeSin and Will.

‘Will!’ I called in warning. His head jerked up as though he heard me, and he lifted his knife. I saw then that he wasn’t holding a knife at all, it was just a stave, made of wood.

‘He’s training,’ I said, relieved.

‘Yes. He’s beginning to see.’ The ruby sparked in the sun, sending color into her cheeks. For a moment, she looked almost young.

I looked back at the globe but now it was just glass, speckled with small bubbles of air, and all I could see within was the view from the window — the forest, the mountains, turned upside down and infinitely small. I bent over it, trying to find him again, but Rosa reached over, took the globe from my hands. The ruby swung as she stretched, and its edge clinked against the glass.

‘You must listen to me, child. For you; ah, the world spins quickly. The seasons change and the grasses will soon be dying. Then the snow will fall. And after winter comes the spring.’ She pushed back her chair, went to the window, and looked out at the early autumn forest. ‘In the new growth of the grass, Dana. Do you remember?’

How could I forget? ‘After the snow has melted and the grass begins to grow. The time of sacrifice.’

‘You must be ready, Dana. Are you ready?’

I felt again the burning, a soft stroke of feathered wings across my back. ‘I think so.’

The world seemed to move sideways and she gasped and reached out for the sill to steady herself.

‘And you?’ I asked. ‘Are you ready?’

She smiled at me. ‘Little Dana. Almost grown up.’ She stretched her fingers towards me. ‘Take care, child. You are strong, much stronger than you know. Have faith in your strength.’

Outside the sun went behind a cloud and the room appeared suddenly dim.

‘Rosa?’

I felt the distance between us growing. ‘Tell her,’ she called, ‘tell her ...’ Her voice was faint now.

‘What?’

‘Love ...’ she whispered, ‘tell her love.’

It was as though I stood at the opening of a tunnel and watched the figure of a woman walking within. As the darkness collapsed around her, my homeland disappeared.

***

I
t was light when I woke. I lay on a soft mattress under smooth-woven sheets. I stretched, sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Wooden floors, polished to a shine, reflected my feet. The place was clean and sparsely furnished with a carved chest beside the bed and a red lantern swinging from the roof.

I wore a white robe, open at the throat. Plain and unadorned, with wide sleeves, it reached to my feet. I fingered the fabric; so soft. Who had put this on me? The room was empty and quiet, save for the soft hum of distant voices.

I walked across the shiny floor to the sun-filled window. It was barred with a stone lattice. Outside, the air was dry and warm and there was a curious smell of rancid butter and horses. The sky was bright blue and, blown by a strong wind, clouds washed against the sun.

This window was set high in a smooth, unbroken wall. Far below lay a city that sprawled towards the horizon. Walls and roofs, streets and narrow alleyways; it was like looking at a living map. There was movement in the streets, people and carts and livestock and laundry blew in the wind. Walls split the city, so the place appeared ringed like an onion, dropping away in steps below me.

Awestruck, I stood at the window, my fingers pressed to the grille-work. So many people!

If I had not been there at that moment, I might have missed it. A sudden flash, as the sun came out from the cloud. A flash of light on white metal. Like sunrays glinting from silver.

But I looked and I saw it: a fountain of silver, set in a courtyard, far, far below. Shaped like a tree, its metal branches were intricately carved. Water sprayed from it in a fine mist, creating a small, perfect rainbow.

I heard an old woman calling a challenge to a king. A blind man, whispering across time.
A stone of unbearable sorrow.

I lifted my chin and stared out at the city. I was no one’s sacrifice.

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H
i there! My name is Rachel Stedman. I live in the wild and windy place of Dunedin, New Zealand, with my husband and two kids.

I write mostly for children and young adults. In 2012 I won the Tessa Duder Award for an unpublished YA work and my first novel,
A Necklace of Souls,
was published by HarperCollins in 2013.
A Necklace of Souls
was awarded Best First Book at the 2014 New Zealand Post Book Awards. In 2014 I also published
Inner Fire
, available from Amazon and selected bookstores.

I’m currently working on the third and final installment in Will and Dana’s story. If you want to learn more about their world, feel free to have a look at my pinterest boards (
pinterest.com/soulnecklace
). And if you like my facebook page or sign up for a newsletter through my website (
www.RLStedman.com
), you’ll have advance warning of when this story is coming out.

Finally, if you enjoyed
A Skillful Warrior
, do please leave a review on Amazon, iTunes or
Goodreads
, as this helps others to find out about it, too.

––––––––

A
Necklace of Souls,
the first book of the SoulNecklace Stories
,
was made possible through an award offered by the Storylines Children’s Literature Trust of New Zealand, in association with HarperCollins Publishers.

The Storylines Children’s Literature Trust of New Zealand supports and promotes children’s literature in New Zealand. Membership, open to all, includes parents, grandparents, authors and illustrators, publishers, teachers, booksellers, librarians, and other professionals in the fields of reading, writing, publishing and literacy. Its activities include running the annual nationwide Storylines Festival of New Zealand Writers and Illustrators, and other book- related events; publications, including annual ‘Notable Book’ lists; general networking and advocacy; and membership of IBBY, the International Board on Books for Young People.

Since 1991, through its program of annual awards in association with publishers, Storylines has actively sponsored new and emerging talent.

I am deeply grateful to Storylines, for the work they do and for the support that this award has offered me.

For further information, please visit
www.storylines.org.nz
or contact [email protected]. Or, write to: The Membership Secretary, Storylines, PO Box 96 094, Balmoral, Auckland 1342, New Zealand.

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I
t pays to think carefully about the subjects you take at school. Look at me — if I hadn’t chosen Textiles, none of this would have happened. I guess none of us know in advance the importance of our decisions.

Deepti and I didn’t see each other much during the day because we had different classes, so after school we often met outside Archway Station for a gossip-cum-vent session.

Deepti poked me in the arm. ‘Hey, did I tell you? Jonty asked me out.’

‘No way! Jonty
MacFarlane
? I didn’t even knew you fancied him.’

‘Well I do. Maybe. Anyway, we’ve been messaging each other all week. So romantic!’ She sighed, sounding like a dreamy heroine.

I did not get this. Deepti had been angling for a boyfriend for ages, but why Jonty? He never stops talking; he's like a radio without an off switch. How could she even like him, let alone go out with him? Plus, he has enormous zits on his neck.

‘Come on, Corinne. Isn’t there someone you like?’ she asked.

I shook my head. ‘No.’

Deepti riffled through her bag, hunting for her smokes. ‘You know what your problem is? You’re too fussy.’ She lit up, blew out smoke. ‘Anyway. So. How was your day?’

I slumped against a bollard and groaned. ‘Remind me again — why did I take Textiles?’

‘Ah, because you thought it would be about fashion and clothing and stuff? And because it’s better than maths?’

‘Yeah. There is that, I guess. Do you think I could change to another paper?’