Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series (26 page)

‘Dark bless you
brothers. You have wandered far. Perhaps you are lost and we would
find it a great joy to set your feet on the right path.’

Chak pushed his bedroll
aside and hitched himself closer to the fire. He pulled at a
leather thong round his neck to reveal a disc of obsidian, deeply
incised but smoothed by long wear and handling. He was watching the
seated man’s face in the shadows and relaxed slightly when he saw a
flicker of recognition in the man’s eyes.

‘We are not lost,’ he
said steadily. ‘We are travelling south, to the Dark Realm, from
Kelshan lands. We would warn the people of an army following behind
us.’

‘And why should you
give warning against your own kind? Is that not
betrayal?’

‘My name is Chak. I am
of the Eagle Clan, far north of Kelshan lands.’

The seated man glanced
up at his towering companion. ‘We are of the Bear Tribe,’ he said
after a pause. ‘My name is Theap. My friend is Menagol.’

The giant squatted
beside the now crackling fire and smiled. The scouts regarded the
filed teeth stained bright red. They saw now that Theap’s teeth
were also filed, but at least they were their natural colour. A
massive hand lifted the kettle onto the fire. Chak introduced Keff
and Cully, hesitating when he came to Weasel, knowing Weasel was
not his true name. But Weasel looked straight at Theap and
introduced himself.

‘I’m
Weasel.’

They all sat by the
fire, silently drinking the herbal tea the giant Menagol poured for
them. Finally Menagol emptied the dregs from the kettle over the
fire and stood up.

‘We’ll take you to our
village,’ he said, his voice a surprisingly gentle
rumble.

The four scouts
gathered their gear with the speed of long practice. By the time
they’d done so they found the two strangers had saddled the horses
although they remained on foot. The scouts tried not to stare, but
seeing Theap standing for the first time took them aback. He was
small, his head barely reaching above Menagol’s belt. He had the
body of a twelve year old, yet he was undoubtedly an adult, around
twenty-five Chak guessed.

Theap watched them
mount then trotted to the eastern edge of the plateau. The scouts
followed. Chak was last in line and was briefly disconcerted to
find his eyes level with Menagol’s, who strode beside him. Chak
noticed the man’s eyes were a startlingly pale blue rather than
brown like Theap’s. He also realised, as they rode down another
narrow gully, that he had assumed Theap to be the leader of this
odd pair. Yet Theap had looked to Menagol for a decision on taking
the scouts to their village. Chak well knew that big didn’t always
mean slow witted, but he’d nearly fallen into that trap with these
two.

Throughout that day
Theap guided them through the mountains. There seemed to be more
water this side of the Range. They rode beside two waterfalls
during the afternoon which fell from high above to far below, into
fast flowing white blue rivers. In a few places Chak and his men
had to dismount and lead their horses across a scree slope where
footing was uncertain, and over jumbled boulders which had slipped
from the face of the mountain.

They’d halted briefly
at midday to let the horses drink and then they’d moved on again.
It was nearing dusk and the horses were beginning to stumble when
Theap brought them to a building. It was scarcely recognisable as
such, even from only a few paces away. It resembled many other
haphazard jumbles of rock slabs and blocks but for a gleam of light
which outlined a doorway. Two slender lads stood watching their
arrival, wary as young deer. Theap called to them, in the guttural
language he’d first used to the scouts, and the boys leaped to a
path beside the rocks and vanished.

Theap grinned as the
scouts dismounted.

‘There’s always
supplies left in these shelters, in case any travellers are caught
by weather changes. I’ll start a meal cooking.’

The scouts set about
seeing to the horses and found Menagol happy to assist.

‘Why we stopping here
tonight then, if your village is close by?’ Cully asked.

Menagol gave a crimson
grin. ‘The boys will not reach the village until the moon is well
risen, running all the way. Do you want to risk your horses’ legs,
or your necks, on those trails in the dark?’

Keff gave a grunt of
laughter. ‘Point taken. But do those lads not take a
risk?’

‘They’ve run these
trails since they first learnt to run. Winter and
summer.’

No more was said until
the horses were settled and tethered for the night. All of the
scouts had been pondering the skill needed to run the sort of paths
they’d travelled recently in daylight, let alone in the night, or
when snow lay deep or ice slicked the rocks.

They couldn’t hide
their surprise when they went into the shelter. It was much larger
than they would have imagined, but then they saw that a large cave
lay beyond the entrance. Theap was busy by a proper hearth set far
back in the cave. Turning, he saw the scouts looking round with
great interest. He waved a large spoon towards the fire.

‘Chimney goes a long,
long way up, so the smoke can scarce be seen.’

There were bundles of
firewood stacked all around the entrance, and jars and barrels
lined high shelves. Cully whistled in admiration.

‘Keep snug in here in
the worst blizzard, I’d guess.’

Keff and Weasel piled
their gear against a wall while Menagol pulled off his jerkin and
boots and sat on the floor with a sigh of content.

The two boys reached
their village just as the moon began to wane. Although there was no
one to witness, they both stopped by the boundary stone. Twice as
high as Menagol, roughly shaped to represent a standing bear, its
face was well depicted and so were the huge claws at the end of
paws larger than a man’s head. The boys touched their left thumbs
to their brows, lips and chest, then reached to touch one of the
claws. They took a respectful pace back then continued to jog to
the round stone building in the centre of the village.

A man opened the door
even as the boys climbed the steps to the deep verandah beneath the
overhanging eaves. He took them down a short passage then ushered
them into the large central room. To a stranger, the room would be
a visual shock. Outside, the dominant colours were grey and black,
the buildings constructed from the rocks of the mountain. But in
here colours glowed and shone.

Scenes from the Bear
Tribe’s history were painted directly onto the smooth stone walls.
On the black stone floor intricately worked rugs were scattered
around furniture padded and upholstered in stunning hues. Oil lamps
circled the room and a fire blazed in the centre, a great bronze
hood sucking the smoke out into the night. The chief of the tribe
was known only as The Bear since he claimed leadership, and he sat
waiting for the boys. His hair and beard were white, but his eyes,
a dark honey brown, showed no sign of age.

‘The strangers come?’
he asked mildly.

The elder boy
straightened, proud to bear such urgent news. ‘Four men. Menagol
brings them here tomorrow.’

‘Four?’ The Bear
frowned.

‘Theap told us there
are many more, but these four have abandoned those
others.’

The younger boy risked
a word. ‘Theap said the four were scouts, and one wears a seal.’ He
blushed furiously at his temerity.

The Bear nodded,
reaching into a pocket. He beckoned the boys closer and gave each a
polished bear claw. ‘These are your first tokens,’ he said. ‘You
ran well and true, with important tidings. You are
worthy.’

The boys blushed and
stammered their thanks and retreated, the claws clenched tight in
their fists. A second man, unnoticed by either boy, stirred in a
deep chair across from The Bear.

‘I have sent to alert
the Dark Ones.’

His voice was a hoarse
rasp and the reason was plain when he rose and walked closer to The
Bear. A wide jagged scar ran across his throat, an old scar, pale
with age. Lemos, mage to the Bear Tribe, had come into his powers
in the embrace of a mountain bear when he was barely older than
those two boys. He survived, his voice forever ruined, but his
power immense.

‘They are sending
guards even now,’ he went on. ‘And the Kelshan prince, Jemin, is
among them.’

The Bear stood up and
stretched, casting a vast shadow over Lemos. He stared up at the
corbelled ceiling, then back at the mage.

‘The villages of our
Tribe stand ready, but I trust the fighting takes place on the
Kelshan side of our mountains. We are too scattered to defend these
lands against a massed force.’

A woman came into the
room. She was tiny – The Bear could lift her with one hand, as
indeed he often had, to her intense fury. She stood with her fists
on her hips and glared at both men.

‘Are either of you
bothering to go to bed at all this night?’ she demanded. ‘You know
you’ll both nod off all day tomorrow. Daft old fools.’

Lemos grunted but
couldn’t hide his smile.

‘There’s a while before
daylight,’ he croaked. He kissed her cheek as he passed her on his
way out.

She swatted a hand at
him, continuing to glare at her husband.

‘Yes, yes, Emas, I’m
coming.’ The Bear spread his huge hands placatingly, moving towards
her.

She opened the door,
her light blue eyes watching him affectionately despite her scowl.
The Bear shook his head and padded obediently past her. Emas
watched him for a moment then turned back into the room. She went
carefully round, extinguishing the lamps one by one, tutting to
herself at the wastefulness of men in general and her husband in
particular. Satisfied, she followed The Bear along the passage to
their bed chamber.

Closing the door behind
her, she looked at the great mound of bedclothes from which snores
were beginning to vibrate. Emas sighed, picked up various items of
clothing which had been let fall wherever they’d been removed, and
then climbed into bed too. The snores ceased.

‘Why do you never put
shoes on when you get out of bed? Your feet are cold enough to kill
a man with shock when you get back in.’

Emas chuckled and
snuggled closer to her husband’s bulk. After a moment she spoke
softly.

‘Menagol and Theap are
unharmed?’

The Bear gave an
enormous sigh. ‘They are. They will bring four scouts of the
northern lands here tomorrow. It seems one of them wears a seal
stone.’

Emas shot upright. ‘A
seal stone? But the Kelshan don’t know anything about seal
stones.’

The Bear dragged her
back down. ‘This one does. Now, go to sleep.’

There was another pause
then Emas spoke again, her voice a whisper.

‘And will Essa come
home just to cross the mountains to battle?’

But this time her only
answer was a long drawn out snore.

Chapter
Fifteen

Tika had taken advice
from Corman and Cyrek, and was now preparing to act upon it. Sket
had been allowed out of the infirmary for part of each day,
although he still had occasional dizzy spells and headaches. Tika
had told him what she planned and he agreed completely. Now they
sat in Lerran’s great chamber waiting for Kija to bring Farn back
from a brief outing to the roof terrace. Sergeant Essa and Gossamer
Tewk had accompanied the Dragons, and Emla, Nesh and Tevros were
also present in the chamber.

Farn appeared in the
archway, his scales brightening from the sickly grey to their usual
silver blue. But all could see with what relief he sank down to the
floor again after even such a short excursion. Tika sat cross
legged in front of Farn and held his face when he lowered it to
hers.

‘Soran is here.’ She
spoke to his mind, allowing the others to hear her
words.

Farn’s eyes whirred.
‘Soran!’ He looked around the chamber.

‘He is Captain of
Guards now,’ Tika continued steadily.

‘Is he?’ Silence for a
heartbeat. ‘But Gan is Captain of Guards.’

‘No Farn. Soran is
Captain in Gan’s place.’ She held Farn’s face, staring into his
beautiful prismed eyes as they began to flash in
distress.

‘Farn, Gan went Beyond
just when you and I were parted.’

Sket moved from his
chair and knelt beside Tika. ‘It is true Farn, and Maressa died
with him.’

A wail began to rise
from the young Dragon. But it was a wail of normal sorrow, not the
sound that had caused so much damage to sensitive minds when Farn
sank into the darkness. Tika let go of his face and wrapped her
arms around his shoulders.

‘Farn, Farn, listen to
me. No one has sung them on yet.’

The wail ceased. Farn
looked at his mother. Kija said nothing but rose and reared erect,
her head very near to the ceiling of even this chamber. Farn
struggled to stand opposite her and, amazingly, heaved himself up,
wings spread to each side. Gossamer Tewk found herself in tears.
What was happening to her? How could she cry? But she held on to
Sergeant Essa’s arm and wept, as the two Dragon voices soared in
harmony.