Perilous Shadows: Book 6 Circles of Light (21 page)

‘What we looking for
exactly Sergeant?’ Onion squinted across the open space towards the
Menedula.

‘Any signs of life, I
suppose.’ She was lying flat beside Onion, her chin resting on her
fists. ‘It’s a real shame there’s no ghosts around
here.’

‘Yeah, but maybe they
wouldn’t be as friendly as that Kelshan lot.’

Essa twisted her head
to glare at Onion. ‘Simert said he still ruled this place didn’t
he?’ Her eyes widened at Onion’s look of horror.

‘What is it now?’ a
voice asked behind them, sounding definitely testy.

They rolled over and
squirmed behind the chimney again before getting to their feet. A
short, plump elderly man frowned at them, arms folded and the
fingers of one hand drumming on the opposite arm. Essa towered over
both men but looked as nervous as a child.

‘Um, I’m sorry. I
didn’t think you’d actually come, unless it was Tika calling
you.’

Simert narrowed his
eyes, peering up at the enormous woman. ‘Well obviously I heard you
this time, didn’t I?’

Essa fidgeted, then
remembered just how unstable this roof might be and froze in
place.

‘I wondered if you’d
got any ghosts looking for a bit of a change?’ She ignored Onion’s
gasp and ploughed on.

‘The ghosts were very
useful in Kelshan and I think they’d be the only way we can find
out what’s happening in there.’ She jerked a thumb over her
shoulder to indicate the Menedula. ‘Tika used her mind to far seek
and there are hundreds of bodies in there, but she couldn’t tell
whether their souls were still around.’ Essa risked a smile at the
God of Death and he flinched slightly.

‘Hundreds you say?’ he
asked.

Essa and Onion nodded
in unison.

‘Hmm. Wouldn’t hurt to
take a peek I suppose. And I’ll ask around if anyone wants a trip
here. But do try to be a bit more careful about calling me. I am
extraordinarily busy you know. It isn’t just collecting up souls,
oh dear no.’

With a last cautionary
frown, Simert vanished, and Essa slumped against the chimney stack.
She opened her mouth and Onion slapped his hand across her
face.

‘Don’t’ he hissed.
‘Don’t use that name again. Let’s invent some really nice new
curses what won’t call no – unexpected visitors down on
us.’

Under his hand, Essa
nodded, and Onion let go, sagging down beside her.

‘Wonder if it’s just
you, or if he’d turn up if any of us others – mentioned
him?’

Essa didn’t reply, too
much was churning through her mind. The main thing was the fact
that the pendant beneath her shirt was far warmer than it should
be. Not hot, but definitely too warm.

Brin reported that Essa
had somehow known the Dragons were overhead. He sounded puzzled at
this as he and Storm had chosen not to perhaps offend Essa by
telling her they were following to keep a protective eye on them.
He told Kija that Essa and her men had decided to stay where they
were, for another day, perhaps two. Tika was not too concerned. She
understood that all her guards, particularly Sergeant Essa, knew
very well how to take every precaution relating to their
safety.

Kija decided to keep
the information Brin had sent to her alone, of Simert’s brief
appearance in Syet, to herself. Kija felt that Tika would only
worry unnecessarily and Brin reported all was well. So she said
nothing. Tika realised, as dusk drew on, that Essa must have
intended to take a couple of days on her reconnaissance patrol:
she’d taken basic supplies with her.

It felt a little
strange with nearly half the company missing, but the cabin was
cosy when Sket and Shea lit the fire. Shivan and Shea decided to
cook the meal, amid insulting remarks about the appalling porridge
Dog and Essa had served for breakfast. Dog stoutly defended her
cooking skills but Tika suspected the engineer and Essa had
probably ruined the porridge deliberately: it would be a long time
before they would be asked to undertake any culinary duties
again.

Leaving the others
bickering round the fire, Tika wandered out of the cabin again. The
air smelled chilly but at least it wasn’t raining, and the first
stars were prickling in the sky. She saw Rhaki sitting on a boulder
beside Dromi and strolled towards them.

‘Have you decided you
can tell us more of Hag?’ she asked, smiling to take any sting from
her words.

Dromi nodded gravely
and clasped his hands on his lap. ‘I suspect that Hag was born of
Shadow. I also suspect that from her hatching she was devoted only
to Mother Dark.’ He gave a tiny apologetic shrug. ‘I do not know
enough historical detail of the Dark Realm you understand, to do
more than sketch the vaguest outline of my conjectures.’

Tika peered at Rhaki,
who winked in sympathy. She worked back through Dromi’s words and
wasn’t really much wiser. Finally she looked up at Dromi
again.

‘Are you saying that
Hag is from the Splintered Kingdom?’ she asked slowly.

‘No, no. I suspect,
only suspect, she is Shadow born, but Shivan has told me Shadow and
Light were born of the Dark?’

He tilted his head in
query. When Tika nodded he continued.

‘They speak always of
Mother Dark.’ Again he waited for Tika’s nod of
agreement.

‘I believe the people
of the Dark Realm consider themselves to be Children of Mother
Dark. But they are not, by their own accounts, the only children.
Mother Dark produced Children of Light and of Shadow. Therefore,
she is Mother to them all.’

He beamed at Tika as if
suggesting that all was now transparently obvious. When it became
equally clear that Tika found his remarks anything but, he tutted
for a moment.

‘They are all children
of the same Mother, who is Dark Herself. Suppose, if you will, that
a Child of Light, or a Child of Shadow, should so adore their
Mother, they would leave their siblings to serve only that
Mother?’

‘You were born in
Sapphrea, Tika,’ Rhaki put in softly. ‘Theoretically that makes you
a Child of Light. But Shivan says several in the Dark Realm
consider that you are of the Dark too.’

Dromi beamed at
Rhaki.

‘Oh precisely so, my
friend. Precisely so.’

Chapter
Twelve

His howl tore through
the very fabric of his castle and he swung again towards the wall,
crashing his skull against the rippled stone in frustration. As
soon as he had some measure of control and his plans crept
infinitesimally further along the path he’d chosen, something
tugged at them. Tugged, and tugged, until they started to unravel
and, painstakingly, he would have to start again.

Liquid flowed
sluggishly down his face, chips of the thick bone of his forehead
protruded through the grey skin. He slid down to his knees, aware
briefly of a flare of pain from the broken joints, but disregarding
such a minor detail. He’d felt this tugging more and more
frequently but he was quite unable to find its source. He leaned
his head against the wall, his eyes closed. He wanted to scream
again, vent his fury and win himself a momentary peace.

But he found he hadn’t
enough breath, his chest was too badly mended, the bones
constricting his lungs too tightly now. He should break them again
and try to set them better. He moved, twisting off his painful
knees to lean his back against the wall, leaving a smear of blood
where his head had rested. He blinked to clear his eyes of stone,
blood and bone splinters, and stared across his room.

The only thing still in
one piece was his chair; everything else was torn, broken and
shredded. The sound that escaped him was close to a whimper. All
his beautiful things, ruined – again – by his own uncontrollable
temper. Often this was the only time he came close to a state of
lucidity, when he had exhausted himself in the overwhelming torment
of his rage.

Even as he thought
this, he knew it was slipping away again. Resentment and confusion
stirred in his mind even as he watched the bolder shadows skitter
away from the walls, creeping closer to his outstretched legs. He
watched them come and felt a tiny comfort as they spread across his
feet. He closed his eyes and began to seek through the tortuous
channels of his mind and his memories, to identify what the thing
was that tugged every plan awry.

In the Dark Realm, the
Palace Master, Corman, was growing increasingly worried. Since the
recent incursion of some fragments of the Splintered Kingdom, guard
patrols had been increased throughout Karmazen and the Palace, each
patrol always accompanied by a Dark One with mage powers. The
security around the top floor of the Palace was, Corman sincerely
hoped, impregnable. But he was worried by the slowness of the First
Daughter’s recovery. He was worried even contemplating what he
might have sent the Lady Tika to face, and he was desperately
worried that there were still unidentified members of Chindar’s
conspiracy within the Palace.

Four others knew of
Corman’s fears. Mull, the senior mage healer of the Dark Realm,
Sword Master Favrian, Shield Master Garrol and Lord Peshan, the
much younger brother of the First Daughter. If Lord Dabray was
still aware of this world, he too would know of Corman’s worries.
And the Palace Master suspected the First Daughter also knew,
although she rarely seemed conscious and even more rarely attempted
to speak.

Tonight, under a
moonless but star studded sky, Corman sat on the roof terrace
surrounded by the flowers First Daughter Lerran so loved. Despite
her seclusion, the Palace was filled as usual in the spring with
bowls, pots, tubs and vases of delicately scented blooms. Corman
heard the sound of boot heels click across the great chamber and
watched Garrol pause in the archway, seeking him out. Garrol joined
Corman on the low bench, sighing as he sat down.

‘Weary, old friend?’
Corman’s old gold eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at the
Shield Master.

‘I think it may soon be
time to hand the Shield to a younger man.’ Garrol
admitted.

A silence grew between
them, the easy silence of a long, long familiarity, until Corman
broke it.

‘I have had no success
in tracing Seola.’ His tone was flat, uninflected.

Garrol rubbed his
calloused palms on his thighs. ‘And we lost track of Cyrek this
afternoon.’

‘What?’ Corman asked in
alarm.

Garrol nodded. ‘I sent
warnings to Shiral in Sapphrea,’ he said. ‘I am a practical man,
Corman. I find the idea of plots and intrigue beyond
me.’

‘But you have the same
doubts as I do concerning those two?’

‘I do indeed. Favrian
is of like mind.’

‘Coby’s wisdom is
sorely missed.’

Both men gave brief
thought to the woman who had been murdered by Chindar, or one of
his fellow conspirators.

‘Has Shivan sent
further word?’

Corman stood, resting a
hand on Garrol’s shoulder. ‘No, he hasn’t. I disagreed with him
being allowed to leave the Realm, but when he returned last time, I
saw I had been wrong. He is exactly the one to travel with Lady
Tika. I saw a new maturity in him, and even a modicum of
caution.’

Garrol’s knees creaked
as he got to his feet, earning a chuckle from Corman.

‘Get to your bed, old
man, you need some rest at least.’

One of Khosa’s sons,
Resh, came trotting to meet them as they re-entered the great
chamber. Huge green eyes looked up at Garrol.

‘I will keep you
company please.’

Both men laughed at the
gentle voice in their minds. Garrol stooped and lifted the little
cat to his shoulder.

‘Very well,’ he agreed.
‘Are Bakra and Akomi guarding the First Daughter?’

‘Oh they are. As
always.’ Resh peered earnestly into Garrol’s face and began a
surprisingly deep purr.

‘Sleep well Garrol. We
will speak in the morning.’

Kazbeck and Corim had
taken a different route to their target – the Menedula building.
They had met the others in the burnt out tavern and been told of
Essa’s decision to remain another day here. Kazbeck was thoughtful
most of that afternoon and as twilight gathered, he approached
Essa.

‘We could get across
that space come nightfall Sergeant. I’d like to try it.’

Essa pulled her lower
lip between a finger and thumb.

‘Just a quick look
around?’ she asked. ‘Get back among the buildings well before dawn
then. We’ll wait here for you then you can rest up while we go
out.’

Darrick looked up from
where he squatted on what was left of the tavern floor.

‘Want to take a couple
of poppers with you?’ he offered.

Kazbeck blanched.
‘Thanks Darrick. But I think they’re more use in um experienced
hands.’

Darrick
shrugged.

‘We’ll be off
then.’

Essa stood watching the
two guards disappearing in the deepening dusk. She knew both were
good soldiers, well trained under the Kelshan General Whilk, not
given to rashness. But something nagged at her as she lost sight of
the two men.