Dark Lightning (20 page)

One of the followers chuckled. ‘Magic, indeed. It would be a brave wolf that ventured out alone in this city. The Karshal troops are reclaiming the city and their blood is up.’

‘Karshal troops ... do you mean those who follow Servish?’

‘You do not know who they are when you wear the insignia of the Falcon? Servish is dead, we hear. Are you sure you cannot remember what you are called?’

Emrys hand covered the insignia. ‘My memory is faulty from the blow. Where did you find me, follower?’

‘By the fountain. The people who did this to you ran off.’ She held a fragrant balm under his nose. ‘Breathe this fragrance; it will help to readjust your memory. The man who hit you was one on Servish’s troopers. Do you remember him?’

‘Yes ... I think I do. He was a large man, but I didn’t see his face. I was watching the reflection of the moon on the water. He hit me with a stick and tried to steal my cloak and valuables. I didn’t see the other one. He sneaked up behind me.’

‘He was a large man too. He held you by the arms while the other one struck you with his stick. It had a metal knob on the end if you recall.’

‘I do remember him,’ Emrys murmured, feeling relieved that he’d remembered anything at all.

‘You fought bravely which is why they didn’t succeed in killing you.’ The potions she used were wonderfully fragrant and Emrys closed his eyes.

 The older woman peeled back his eyelids and gazed into his eyes. Hers were dark, like pearls from oysters that survived in the rift pools. Emrys was relaxed as she placed a cool cloth infused with balm over his wound. She picked up his hand and applied a little pressure with her thumb, frowning at the result.

‘Is something wrong with me?’

 ‘Your pulse is a little fast, that’s all. We will wait a little while until the swelling has gone down and the skin has healed. She took the stopper from a bottle and held in under his nose. He fell instantly asleep.

The followers exchanged a glance over his body and the older one nodded. ‘His blood doesn’t react so he’s not a true-blood. I believe he’s the tracker called Emrys.’

The old women whispered in his ear. ‘Young man, are you called Emrys, known as the greatest tracker in Arles?’

‘That, I am,’ he murmured. ‘My head hurts.’

‘Then sleep, and forget this conversation. None will disturb you.’

‘He reacts well to the power of mesmer. Should we tell someone?’ the younger sister asked’

‘Tell Sybilla. We may have to move the entrance to the tower as a precaution.’

* * * *

When Emrys woke he didn’t immediately remember the alleyway, or the wolf that had walked through a wall. He did remember the fountain and his two assailants. He felt quite rested, and thanked the followers with a coin for their care.

Two days later, when the city had settled down and order was being restored, he did remember. He made his way to the alleyway. It was an ordinary lane with windows and shop fronts, though he couldn’t remember seeing them before. The only thing there to remind him of his previous visit was a loose stone. He stopped to pick it up and found that it was sticky with blood. Touching his forehead, his eyes narrowed as he tossed it aside.

He recalled that his parents were on their way, and he went to the city gates to enquire if they’d presented themselves.

‘Yegan Colban arrived here yesterday with his two women.’ The guard spat on the ground at the mention of their names. ‘They’ve been barred from entering the city and sent back to the plain. What are they to you?’

‘Nothing, I was just checking, since I was told by someone in charge to keep a look out for them.’

He walked away. Things had changed and he needed time to think.

The next morning Sybilla handed Jynx a scroll of parchment tied in a red ribbon.

‘Where did this come from?’

‘A man made the request to one of the sisters to deliver it to you.’

 Jynx hugged a smile to herself and then set aside the woven rug she was making for the poor. She found this sort of activity tedious, though she tried to complete her allotted tasks with a good heart. ‘Was it Hal?’

Sybilla merely smiled as she handed it over. ‘The sister didn’t say, but you must remember he is no longer the Hal you knew, but Lord Falcon of Karshal.’

‘He will always be Hal to me. I hope he’ll not get to be too grand.’

Sybilla laughed. ‘Great responsibility comes with rule. The first thing he will learn is that his life belongs to his subjects, not the other way around, and that will require self-discipline. The Sabarin family was never too grand to ignore the welfare of the Karshalese. It was they who built the schools and encouraged the people to indulge in the creative arts.’

‘I don’t see much in the way of arts. The streets are covered in filth and the people are unkempt and without pride.’

‘They are a community without guidance. The world they knew has been taken from them. Under the rule of Cynan’s representative, the city went to rack and ruin. They didn’t know who they could trust and were subjected to Servish’s every whim.’ Her glance fell on the scroll and they were burning with curiosity. ‘Aren’t you going to open that, Jynx?’

She held it against her forehead, closed her eyes and laughed. ‘I can read what’s in it without opening it ... some lines of poetry written by an ancient poet called Willi M Wordwroth But it’s not the proper poem because there isn’t enough room on the scroll. Flowers are painted around the outside.’

Sybilla chuckled. ‘You should practise mind reading more often. William Wordsworth, you mean?’

‘Is that how it’s pronounced? What a long name to have to answer too. Did you know him in another life?’

Sybilla’s eyes flew open. ‘I may have met him on a couple of occasions and I’ve read some of his writings. If the scroll is from the Lord of Karshal you must pay him the proper respect now, and write and thank him for it.’

‘I haven’t read it yet.’

 May I ask why not?’

‘Because I can read it without opening it.’

A sigh of disappointment went through the sisters and Sybilla said, ‘You’re just showing off. Besides, if you read the name of the poet wrongly then you will also scramble the words of the poem.’

Jynx had the feeling Sybilla would make sure that she did. ‘You’re being inquisitive, and just want to know what’s in it,’ she teased.

‘Yes I am. It’s a long time since I’ve been in love.’

‘The man you loved ... what was his name?’

‘Thommo. He was Lord Kavan’s bodyguard. We had two children ... boys, who looked like him and grew up to be just like him. When Thommo died I thought I’d never get over it, and my children had hardly become men when my body wore out. It was the one time I regretted being immortal – when I watched my family grow old and die. I swore I’d never allow myself to love a mortal again.’

‘So belonging to someone you love in spirit and creating a child from that relationship is not worth the pain of losing them?’

 Sybilla drew in a breath. ‘It was a long time ago. Truthfully, the experience made me suffer quite badly. But, yes, to be loved is worth the pain of parting.’

‘I thought it might, since you still have memories of it, even after living several lives since.’

‘You retain what you want to retain of the deepest emotion. Being immortal doesn’t mean you don’t experience pain or love. Sometimes the death of the body is painful, as is the rebirth. You have to treat each body with care. Sometimes you might be reborn into a body at the same as life departs from it ... thus, you might be reborn as an old woman and unwittingly keep that body alive beyond its endurance. That happened to me when I was mentor to Tiana. She could be very trying, as can you.’

‘What if an immortal should fall in love with another immortal?’

‘It could cause problems, I imagine. When it’s time to change bodies one of you might be old and the other an infant.’

‘Do you know straight away that you’re living another life?’

‘Realization is gradual, and you don’t know what’s happening to you, at first. Can you remember the first time you healed, Jynx?’

‘No. It happened now and again, a scratch here and a bruise there, and I thought it was normal. A bird fell from a nest once and when I picked it up it had no heartbeat. I took it to Remy and we said a prayer together, one that had been taught to him by the seer in the forest. The bird came back to life and flew from my hands into the sky. Remy said we had to keep it a secret. Do you think I’ve lived before? I can’t remember another life.’

‘I expect you did. It’s only rarely that new immortals are created, and you are definitely a young spirit. From our meditations we’ve come to the conclusion that you and Remy might be descended in a direct line from the Grand Alchemist.’

‘Have you met him?’

‘The Alchemist? Yes ... he comes and goes in different guises.’

‘What’s he like?’

‘Goodness, Jynx, so many questions asked today. He’s like any ancient. He’s wise, and a bit vague on occasion. Time means nothing to him. Why do you ask?’

‘I should like to meet him.’

‘I imagine you will one day ... and when you least expect it. In fact, you may have met him already.’ Laughter trickled from her. ‘You’ll have plenty of time in which to meet him. Open that scroll, will you. Let us hear what the bard has written on behalf of the sender.’

Some of the sisters had sidled closer and were listening to the conversation with open curiosity. Most gazed at Jynx with smiles on their faces, and love and kindness flowed around her.

Wulf nudged his snout into her lap, wagged his tail and looked expectantly up at her.’

‘Oh ... no ... don’t tell me you like listening to poetry, too.’ An idea entered her head and she quickly hid her thoughts.

Sliding off the ribbon, she unrolled the parchment and gazed around at the assembly of sisters. She was sure that the advanced rush of guilt she felt over what she was about to do was visible in her face.

* * * *

She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight:
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food,
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
A perfect woman, nobly planned
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a spirit still, and bright
With something of an angel-light.

 * * * *

The sisters clapped their hands, exclaimed, and began to laugh and tease her.

‘The poet’s words have been mangled beyond recognition,’ Jynx murmured, feeling suddenly cross.

 Sybilla smiled at her. ‘I rather like the way the bard rearranged the rhyme, since they convey the romantic meaning of the poem better. Now you must send him an answer. We will help you to compose it.’

 And without asking permission they were all interfering in her personal business. She seized the opportunity by picking up the scroll and murmuring, ‘I’ll fetch a token to send to him.’

When Sybilla and the sisters clustered around a writing tablet, Jynx headed for her chamber.

She fashioned a small braid in her hair, tying it with the red ribbon, and then donned her cloak. Pulling the cowl over her hair, she picked up the scroll and whispered as she took a hold of Wulf’s collar, ‘Take me to Hal.’

Wulf gazed at her, his silvery eyes glinting. He had a worried look on his face.

‘I know, I know ... I’m being sly. You can come and go but I can’t. If I stay penned up in this tower any longer I’ll explode. I only want to go out for a little while, just to see Hal. Then you can bring me back.’

They set off, moving towards the nearest door, only to pass through the panels into a small park.

When she gazed down at Wulf he wagged his tail and looked pleased with himself. She patted him. ‘Good Wulf. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

They headed for the palace, which was across the park. It was dirty, but inside it teemed with people. Armed with brushes and buckets of water they were in the process of scrubbing the dust from the surfaces.

She saw Hal, and, breathing his name she began to run. Her cloak slipped from her shoulders but she didn’t bother to retrieve it.

Surrounded by several men, Hal hadn’t noticed her approach. His guard had though. The trooper grabbed her by the collar and dangled her in his fist. ‘Not so fast, little lady.’

Jynx kicked the man in the shin, but she mightn’t have bothered for all the notice he took of it. Wulf growled menacingly at him.

She dropped to the floor and the man took a flying leap at Wulf. Jynx hurled herself in front of the wolf, screaming out Hal’s name. The guard’s foot missed her but only just, and it caught Wulf’s leg a thump as he tried to spring past her. The bone cracked.

She flung herself over the whimpering creature to protect him, tears streaming from her eyes and crying out, ‘I’m so sorry Wulf. I should have listened to Sybilla.’

 Hal gazed sternly at her. ‘What are you doing here? Put the wolf out of its misery, Thornwall.’

‘Such an order from the gentle Hal was out of place. How could he order Wulf to be destroyed when he knew she loved the animal beyond measure? ‘Don’t you dare touch him.’ Heart thumping Jynx placed her hands gently around his injured leg. She had not tried this on another creature before, only herself, but she’d watched how some of the sisters went about healing.

Wulf gazed at her, his eyes trusting, then licked the back of her hand. ‘Don’t worry Wulf. I love you and would rather die myself than have you harmed.’ She quieted her clamouring senses and chanted a healing mantra. Power surged through her arms into her fingers, and from there into Wulf. She felt others join her and realized Sybilla had connected in spirit somehow.

Before too long Wulf licked her hand, then struggled to his feet. She hugged him tight.

Hal stood before her. He was the same Hal, only different. He was more muscular, and sure of himself – more splendid with his flowing hair, and more magnificent and intimidating. He also looked annoyed at being disturbed. ‘Explain your presence, Jynx?’

‘I wanted to see you ... to thank you for the poem.’

‘What poem?’