The Dragons of Sara Sara (7 page)

 

Riadia sat in her place and motioned the others to sit. Which they did with all haste. One did not ignore the directions of a leader of the Mare Altan. Especially one as senior as Riadia. The respect and deference accorded Riadia by all the locals was automatic.

“Catharina,” she said. “You should tell your friends what you saw this day out on the Star Field Plain. All of it.”

Catharina looked at her hands folded on the table in front of her. Hands capable of launching an arrow in a heartbeat. Yet she hesitated. “Was this fear?” Thought Antonin incredulously. It must have shown on his face. He was hopeless at hiding his feelings. Catharina leapt to her feet. Her quiver of arrows caught on the chair and spilt arrows in a clatter across the floor. She had seen Antonin's slight change of expression, and knowing him so well knew immediately what he had been thinking.

“Had you seen what I saw, Antonin Sheep Herder, you would even now still be heading eastwards!” Catharina's voice cracked slightly on the last words, only adding to her now towering rage. Quivering from head to foot that Antonin had even considered her afraid of something, and sure in the knowledge that she had indeed been scared out of her wits, she was shamed beyond belief.

Spluttering and blinking Catharina resumed her seat. She picked up her spilt arrows, and glanced sheepishly at Riadia who sat waiting for her to continue.

“The Trader had only just pulled up his team, “ she began. “I was circling out wide of his wagon. Keeping a watch.” She glanced again at Riadia. Perhaps seeking approval? Acknowledgment? Riadia didn't even blink. Catharina continued.

“I rode back in close, when I noticed the clouds – smoke? Coming from Sara Sara. I found myself fascinated by the sight. Oily black smoke was rising straight up from the mountain. I could feel the faint vibrations coming up through my horses legs of something huge on the move deep in the earth.” Catharina paused and swallowed. She glanced around the circle of her friends.

“I seemed to be transfixed. I wanted to move but could not.” Again she paused. Antonin and the others did not stir. This was obviously very difficult for Catharina.

“It was in that moment, “ she continued. “That I saw the Dark Lord. He looked straight at me. His eyes were pits of fire, and his mouth as he spoke was a cavern of raging fire. His voice sounded like steel being drawn from a scabbard. He came right to me. He filled my mind and my sight. I could not move.” Catharina had begun to sound slightly hysterical, half rising from her chair. Riadia raised her hand to calm her, and Catharina sank back into her chair her face flaming. With shame or fear Antonin could not say.

“What did he say Catharina?” Asked Antonin in a quiet voice.

Shaking slightly, Catharina looked at each in turn.

“He said – 'Fear for your soul you village chit. My minions have The Key to the Wheel now. When I am free this time all the world will pay. Pay dearly. I know!' – and his breath seemed to scorch me as he drew even closer, filling my sight.” Catharina looked down at herself as if expecting to see scorched clothes.

“His last words he flung at me with a roar of fire from his mouth. 'I know the prophesies. You are nothing. You will beg me to take your soul before you are even started with your friends in the great hunt for The Key. Six village fools'. he roared at me.” Catharina swallowed hard. Her eyes downcast. Antonin and the others were on their feet. Village fools indeed. The fear of it though had their hair standing. Eyes checking windows and doors in involuntary reaction.

“That was not all,” continued Catharina. “He ended by clutching me by the throat,” Catharina's hands went to her throat, fending off the hands seen in her mind. “And he said as he gripped me 'You will all be mine tonight farm girl.' And he disappeared like a stone dropped into a pond. It was then that I screamed. I thought he had already taken me.”

Catharina could not look at her friends. For a Mare Altan to admit fear was disgrace and shame she could not bear. Only the presence of Riadia held her fixed in her chair. Her five friends did not know what to say. The other Maidens did not know where to look to lessen her shame.

Riadia watched for a moment longer.

“Catharina, “ she said “hold up your head child. Would you let the Dark Lord take you before you have even begun the battle?” Her tone was sharp but not commanding. “There is no loss of face in being afraid of the Dark Lord. Only a fool would show no fear in being confronted by the Lord of Death. Be thankful that the Father of Fools has already betrayed his plans while he is yet still imprisoned.”

Silence took them while each thought over Catharina's words.

Finally Riadia rose to her feet.

"So you are the six who will undertake the great hunt. The Hunt for the Key. It is begun. A new age is coming. Go now and say your goodbyes. You must leave this place now. Within the hour. If you can't find family, leave messages. You must be gone – now!” Everyone jumped at the sharpness of the “now”. Six mouths hung open as they stared at Riadia.

“NOW!” she roared. The six friends almost fell over each other in hast to get out the door. Antonin turned at the last. “Why now? Why tonight? Should we not make plans? Just because the Wind Reader…” He stopped in mid sentence as Mei'An said in a calm voice behind him.

“Would you rather that the Soulless tore apart your village, and all in it in the search for you six?”

Antonin swallowed. Put like that, what could he say?

“Your horses are ready. Saddle bags packed with supplies. They are waiting in the stables. We go north now. There is no time for families. Better to leave them safe than to tarry and risk their lives.”

It was a quiet group that headed down the passageway to the rear of the inn and out to the stable yard. The sound of the festivities could be heard clearly. It all seemed so unreal. The light from the distant bonfires flickering on buildings added a surreal quality to the night. None could question what had to be done. Riadia had ordered it in no uncertain terms, even if they would have questioned the Wind Readers intentions.

It wasn't until they were softly clopping across the wooden bridge that Antonin looked back at the village. He noticed also the eyes of a raven glinting in the weak firelight as it dropped from a tree overhanging the village end of the bridge. It winged away into the night. Antonin shivered. Starlight was not enough to lose an arrow at a black target. It had disappeared almost instantly in the night sky. He said nothing to the others, trailing them across the bridge. Luan with Mei'An beside him took up the lead. Edina and Elsa the other two Mare Altan on either side of Catharina as though acting as a shield. Rees and Gaul rode abreast just behind them. Antonin brought up the rear.

None were talking, although Rees occasionally muttered under his breath about being caught up in other's troubles all the time. Gaul's only comment was that he supposed they would be sleeping under the stars, especially if heading north. As far as he knew there was nothing but bare plain in that direction as far as the Dragon Spine Mountains.

The slowly walking group, keeping noise to a minimum was a little way off the bridge when seemingly for out of nowhere they were surrounded by the Maidens of the Mare Altan. Those on the outposts. Watching for trouble.

One stepped alongside Catharina's horse.

“Much honour to you, sister. To you, sister, and to you, sister.” She looked at each of the three mounted girls in turn. “Be welcome home.” She slipped away into the night to be replaced by another, and by another until it seemed the entire sept had passed through the group, now some way along the road.

The three girls were now riding straight backed in their saddles, heads high and hair flicked back over their shoulders. Such honour had never been accorded to sisters of the sept in living memory, nor in any of the campfire stories they had heard. Catharina silently hoped they would earn the honour given them. She had seen the Dark Lord face to face and had no doubts he would try to carry out his threats.

The three boys now brought up the rear. Silent, watchful of the quiet proceeding ahead of them, they each wondered when they would see their villages and homes again. Antonin thought he was the only one to have noticed the raven marking their passing. He hoped it would report their departure to the Dark Master. That way the village would surely be safe.

Finally the last of the Mare Altan were gone into the night. Back to watching the village. The riders were now alone on the road glimmering away across the plain in the starlight. The night closed around them as they left the village behind.

Luan could hardly be seen. His dark cloak hid him in the night like a moon shadow. His black horse was equally invisible. Mei'An in contrast wore pale silks now, a skirt divided for riding, pale blue and shimmering in the starlight like gossamer webs. She would be visible for miles. The others still wore the cloths they had begun the day in. The girls in the browns and greens of the Stone Lion Sept. Soft hide boots laced up almost to the knee with long trousers of brown stuffed into the tops. The trousers were tight fitting and belted at the waist with a broad leather belt made to hold the quiver and knives. A small leather pouch was attached to hold any little personal items. Although renowned as tough in the field and merciless in battle, the girls never the less allowed themselves little luxuries like a favourite ring or perhaps a trinket presented by an admirer. Perhaps even one of the men of the Asha Altan. The Asha Altan were hardly known even to the people of the village in which the sept house stood. Although the women seemed to run the septs, and certainly were the ones who dealt with those not of the clans it was the men, the Asha Altan, who decided which battles were fought and when. Their comings and goings remained secretive even to the Mare Altan. It was rumoured that their wives exercised a good deal of authority over their husbands but it was never admitted and never obvious.

It was the elder women of the septs who had the power that was in some ways similar to that of the Wind Readers. It was used in a different way but it was still a power drawn from the Well Of Spirit.

The party rode quietly through the night now. The Maidens blouses were loosely laced and the night air was cool and pleasant. Just a touch of night dew. The chill would serve to keep wits sharp. The bare brown arms of those riding just ahead of Antonin seemed to hold his attention. Their hair was worn pulled back into pony-tails and hung straight down their backs. In the soft starlight the group was all but invisible. All but Mei'An in her shimmering silks. The horses made little sound other than the occasional puffing and blowing or quiet nicker to another horse nearby. The animals could sense the tension in their riders, and it made them step a little higher and they were inclined to want to sidle and prance lightly.

Some would have liked to run the horses. Ease their tension a bit. Mei'An forbade it. She was concerned that they might need that burst of nervous energy before the night was out.

Antonin was not actually staring at the bare arms of the girls in front of him. He was simply lost in thought and his eyes had fixed on the glow of the brown skin in the starlight. His two friends Rees and Gaul rode out a little way on either side of him now. There was no jingle of tack from the group. There were no metal fittings at all about the horses. Even a large group could travel in relative silence this way. Gaul glanced across at Antonin from time to time as though to reassure himself that this was happening. That here he was getting further from home by the minute. Each step taking him further from home. The moonless, starlit night shadowed his eyes.

Rees rode a little way out on the other side of Antonin. He carried a long handled battle axe suspended from his belt. The wicked half moon blade nestled his side and the long haft hung down almost to the stirrup. It seemed awkward but in Rees's hands it was a formidable weapon. He had always wanted to join the Asha Altan but his father needed him so he never did. It didn't stop him from training like a warrior though. With the axe, the long bow and the sword and buckler Rees was very good. Only his closest friends Antonin and Gaul knew that he had been trained by an Asha Altan. This was unheard of, but Rees had been out by himself one day a year or so back. Down in a dry gully south of the village some distance he had been doing his best to bring a song wood tree to its knees with his sword. He knew he would never learn by himself of course and he had been forbidden joining the Asha Altan, but he was determined. As if the scrubby Song Wood tree were his mortal enemy he thrust and parried and hacked at it and would best it yet. Of course the Song Wood tree just stood as it had for years, only shaking it's crown at Rees's furious and unskilled blows. The Song Wood tree was as hard as forged steel, and the ringing of the sword and the jarring of Rees's hands were the only result of the attack.

Rees stumbled and nearly dropped the sword when a voice seemed to come from the tree itself.

“Would you cut down a Song Wood tree boy, with the sword of a warrior? Have you no axe that you must show such disrespect for a well made weapon?"

Rees was dumbfounded. The Song Wood tree had spoken to him! Had he been in the sun too long? Was this a dream that he would awaken from to face another day? No. Rees looked about him. There was no one in sight. Turning back to the Song Wood tree he was equally surprised now to see a man of the Asha Altan standing by the trunk, arms folded across his chest. Brown skinned as all the people of the Plain were, his skin had turned almost black with sun and time. He was not young, the grey hair told that, but he looked as tough as old boot hide and as unyielding as a rock. His clothing said he was one of the elders. The lion symbol woven into his headband told Rees he was local, of the Stone Lion sept. He stood a good few hands taller than Rees, himself tall for his age. His clothing was spare. The bare essential necessary to cover himself decently. Short breeches, leather jerkin, soft boots, a broad belt worn over one shoulder supporting a sword. The hilt of which Rees could see over his right shoulder. He held a short spear and small shield in his left hand. The spear point was burnished copper almost two hands in length. This was a killing spear used in battle. Not a hunting spear. The copper spear point would need tempering after any use. They were soft, but used only by the older warriors as a mark that they had survived many encounters. Any foe they faced now needed only a soft point to bring them down. A sign of contempt for an enemy. In battles, the most courageous had been seen to turn and run when faced with a man carrying a copper tipped spear.