Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series (23 page)

‘You sensed danger, yet
you sensed nothing amiss with that officer’s wine?’

Delk looked
embarrassed. ‘I did not sir. I did not expect such action, but I
will be constantly alert now, you have my word.’

‘So what do we do now
General?’ Kestis enquire, trying unsuccessfully to smother a
yawn.

‘That can wait for the
morrow. Get some sleep, all of you.’

The men crowded in to
the tent, only then realising how cold they’d become outside. The
General poured another bowl of tea and offered the kettle to Delk
who’d stayed with him by the fire.

‘What do you know of
Spiders, Delk?’ the General asked softly.

Delk stiffened, then
relaxed. ‘The Spiders form a Web. Those who can, read information
from their many strands.’

The General
smiled.

The next morning the
sky was cloudy and the wind blew more strongly. When they’d eaten a
small breakfast, the General looked to the south.

‘Make ready to
travel.’

They followed the route
Strannik had taken – over four thousand men on foot left a clear
trail. The terrain rapidly grew steeper and when they halted at
midday, the General told Klete and Barlis they were to ride ahead
when they moved on.

‘I don’t for one moment
think that Strannik will imagine we’re following, but they will be
travelling far more slowly now. We don’t want to trip over them
unexpectedly.’

They’d stopped among a
group of giant boulders, protected from the constant wind. The sun
pitched down, strangely hot when they knew that just beyond the
boulders the wind was bitter cold. Fent was tightening the saddle
girths when Kestis shouted a warning. Heads turned, weapons were
drawn.

A man stood atop one of
the boulders. He held his empty hands clear of his body as he
jumped lightly down. He was young, of average height and build,
with dark curly hair and brown eyes.

‘General Whilk?’ he
enquired politely.

‘I am
Whilk.’

The man walked towards
him, halted, and gave an odd salute: left thumb to brow, lips and
chest. ‘We heard from mutual friends you would be in this area. My
name is Serida.’ He smiled. ‘I think you know my aunt,
Seola?’

The General sheathed
his sword, his men following suit. ‘And you are here in what
capacity?’ asked the General.

Serida’s smile widened.
‘To open a gateway for you.’

‘A gateway?’ Fent
interrupted. ‘Is there a fortress up here then?’

Serida tilted his head
to study Fent. ‘Unfortunately not. I mean a very different sort of
gateway.’

Chapter
Thirteen

Having explained that
horses did not like gateways, Serida suggested they be turned loose
and sent back down the trail.

‘They are not stupid
creatures,’ he pointed out. ‘They will find safety for
themselves.’

General Whilk and his
men now carried their packs, saddlebags and riding equipment.
Serida beamed in approval.

‘If you would gather a
little closer,’ he said.

Eleven officers of the
Imperium Guards, together with their General, staggered, after a
period of tumbling though darkness. Some had their eyes shut tight,
their complexions faintly green tinged. Most though, stared open
mouthed. The boulders had vanished, the mountains were gone.
Instead, they found themselves in almost familiar surroundings.
They were in an open yard with buildings which were unmistakeably
barracks opposite where they stood. The General managed to stop
gawping and cleared his throat.

‘And where exactly
might we be now?’ he asked Serida.

A voice spoke from the
shadows of a colonnade. ‘You are at the Karmazen Palace, General,
in the Dark Realm.’

Whilk peered into the
gloom and saw a slender man of indeterminate age, although he would
have guessed older rather than younger if pressed.

‘I am Corman, Palace
Master to the First Daughter. I bid you welcome.’

‘So do I.’ Another man
emerged from the shadows, walking out into the open
sunlight.

Whilk stared at the
young man. He wore a black uniform and his bearing was confident
but modest. Whilk looked into hazel eyes beneath tawny brows the
same colour as the man’s hair. The eyes were blue in the father, he
remembered. General Whilk unceremoniously dropped his burdens, drew
his sword and offered it, hilt first, to the young man before him.
His officers watched in bewilderment.

‘I am yours to command
Prince Jemin, as I was your father’s, the Imperator
Jarvos.’

He was unaware of the
indrawn breaths from his men, but he did hear the click of boot
heels as they snapped to attention. Another man stood at Jemin’s
side, not quite so tall and considerably older. Jemin introduced
him.

‘This is Shield Master
and Armourer Garrol, senior officer in the Dark Realm.’ He grinned.
‘And a cruel taskmaster to recruits.’

Whilk noticed that
although the man smiled in welcome, there was worry in his eyes.
Something troubled the man but the General felt it concerned
matters unconnected to their arrival here.

‘We have a great deal
we must discuss General,’ said Jemin. ‘We have to get to know each
other. May we use your office Shield Master?’

‘Of course Jemin. You
know where I can be found should you need me.’

‘Leave your gear here.
It will be taken to the barracks.’ Jemin led them in under the
colonnade.

General Whilk glanced
at the Palace Master who still stood in the shadows. The General’s
step faltered when he met the man’s eyes: they were like ancient
gold coins.

Many floors above, in
the apartments shared by Gossamer Tewk and Shea, it was very quiet.
Shea had retreated to her room with Akomi, who seemed to have no
objection to being Shea’s companion. Gossamer Tewk sat by her
window, her mind feeling slow. The time in the Splintered Kingdom,
with the strange scenes through the windows, had shocked her
enormously. She needed to think, to try to make some sort of sense
of what those scenes meant. Sergeant Essa had offered to accompany
her and Shea back here, but Gossamer refused. She thought Essa
understood her need to be alone for a while, and she also suspected
Essa had been ordered to remain near the Dragons.

Dragons. First, that
mysterious creature Dabray, deep below the Palace. Then the Dragons
she’d glimpsed through those windows. The grey one with its
disfigured face. The much larger purple Dragon, flying slowly over
a devastated landscape. And then to find two Dragons here. What did
it all mean? That young woman with the green silvered eyes, she
felt a connection there. Gossamer sat, watching the sunlight
dancing on the waves, and tried to make sense of the
impossible.

The chamber adjacent to
the First Daughter’s apartments had emptied considerably. The
healers had mostly returned to their usual duties and Lady Emla had
joined Nesh who supervised Sket’s recovery in the Palace infirmary.
Of the invalids, only Farn lay, unmoving, in the middle of the
floor, his mother still at his side. Tevros sat at a table to one
side of the great hearth, writing, and Tika stood by the open
archway which led onto the rooftop terrace.

She had found her pack
and was dressed in blue trousers and shirt, but her weapons
remained on a table across the room. Khosa wound round her bare
feet and she bent to lift the small orange cat in her arms. She
held her slightly away from her, looking into the turquoise eyes.
Khosa was very badly distressed. Tika spun towards the Dragons, but
there was no change there. She took a step outside.

‘What is it Khosa? Tell
me.’ Tika sent the words on a singular thread to the cat’s mind
alone.

Khosa didn’t reply,
only wriggled, indicating she wanted to be put down. Once at Tika’s
feet again, she glanced up at her. ‘Come, but very
softly.’

Khosa padded to the
right, vanishing behind a chair. Tika looked over at Tevros but he
was lost in thought over his reports. Bare feet as silent as
Khosa’s paws, Tika followed the cat. Tika heard voices ahead, then
Khosa went through a narrow arch. Tika crept closer. There was only
friendliness in the tone, so clearly Khosa was not unwelcome
here.

Tika reached the arch
and peeped into the chamber. A man sat on the edge of a vast
canopied bed and Khosa had crept up to crouch beside the person
lying there. A woman turned as Tika crossed the threshold. She made
to speak, hesitated, then smiled and held out a hand. Tika took the
hand automatically and let herself be drawn to the
bedside.

She looked down at the
white haired woman, so still, so pale. She saw the broken bones of
the face, the jaw deformed and twisted. She saw one of the woman’s
shoulders was a shape no shoulder should be, and an arm above the
bed covers was withered like a winter tree.

The woman who’d led her
here, stood behind Tika. She slid both arms round Tika’s waist, her
chin resting on Tika’s shoulder. She spoke very softly, but Tika
knew their talk would not wake the woman in the bed.

‘We believe the First
Daughter went deeper into the Dark than anyone before. She had to
protect Farn when they began to rise. She took it upon herself, and
she chose to do so freely. Now we wait for her to return to
us.’

Tika made no attempt to
touch the First Daughter’s mind: she knew it would be barricaded
against all whilst she battled to retrieve herself. She glanced at
the man sitting on the bed, gently stroking a thin but apparently
undamaged hand.

‘Do you mind if Khosa
stays, or if either of us visit sometimes?’

The man smiled sadly.
‘You are welcome, and this little cat too. She told us she would
bring you. I am Mull and this is Cutha.’

The woman, Cutha,
tightened her arms briefly, kissed Tika’s cheek and stepped back.
‘Indeed you are welcome.’

Somehow Tika got
herself out of that bed chamber without mishap but stumbling tear
blinded down the passage, she ended up in another chamber. Sergeant
Essa was speaking to an elderly man, but they both turned when Tika
swayed blindly in the doorway. Essa scooped her off her feet and
deposited her in a chair while the man tutted in concern. Tika
sobbed, and sobbed.

The Sergeant took her
out of the chair and held her on her lap, rubbing Tika’s back with
one massive hand. The Sergeant understood that this small woman had
reached a point where grief after grief was suddenly too much to be
borne. She didn’t know what might have triggered this outburst but
knew it would only do good. So Sergeant Essa sat, holding Tika
while she cried.

And Tika knew she cried
for Gan, for Maressa, for Seela, for Farn, for Sket, for Mim, and
for the woman lying, so nearly destroyed, in the bed chamber close
by. When at last Essa felt the sobs slackening she lifted Tika back
to the chair and sat close enough to touch if needed. The older man
returned, carrying a tray on which tea bowls steamed with
fragrance. Tika managed a shaky laugh, wiping her sleeve across her
face.

‘Sket always says tea
can cure everything.’

The man handed her a
bowl. ‘Then Sket is a very wise man, my dear. I’m told his fever is
nearly gone.’

‘I’m sorry but have I
met you sir? I don’t recall your name if I have.’

‘This is Shield Master
and Armourer Garrol, senior officer to the First Daughter,’
Sergeant Essa informed her in a solemn voice. Then she leaned
closer. ‘And the softest touch in the Realm when it comes to
distressed ladies and hurt animals.’

Tika laughed, more
steadily this time and leaned back in the chair. She felt better,
emptied of a great burden she had scarcely realised she’d carried.
The Shield Master pulled another chair up so all three sat
close.

‘May I ask you where
you got the sword you carried?’

Tika blinked at the
unexpected question. ‘In Fenj’s treasure cave,’ she replied at
once.

The Shield Master
looked blank.

‘Fenj. He is the Eldest
of my Treasury.’

Another blank
look.

‘A Treasury is a – clan
of Dragons. All Dragons are fascinated by anything that sparkles –
snowflakes, rain, stones, jewels. They keep their very special
sparkles in a cave belonging to the Eldest.’ Tika frowned,
remembering. ‘We saw them in dreams, the weapons and these.’ She
pulled out the pendant she wore beneath her shirt.

‘May I look at your
sword?’

‘Of course.’ Tika was
on her feet and down the passage at once, and back holding her
sword and her pack in less than ten heartbeats. She handed the
sword to Garrol.

First, he inspected the
belt and the scabbard, nodding with approval when he saw that they
were well cared for, the belt supple and well oiled. He drew the
blade slightly from the scabbard, studying the metal near the hilt
closely. He turned it this way and that and finally gave a wordless
exclamation. He slid the blade home and studied the young woman who
owned it.