The Awakening (38 page)

Ejaj picked up the pronoun immediately. ‘Don’t you mean where
we
are based?’

Shanek shook his head. ‘No. I have to leave you now. There’s something I have to do.’

‘Sail!’

‘Whereabouts?’ called the Commander.

‘North and west. Coming up fast astern.’

He turned his telescope to find the sail. It was not one of theirs, and it was fast. Faster than anything he’d ever seen. ‘Come about!’ he called. ‘Ready mangonels!’

The crew scurried to prepare themselves for the coming battle.

‘What is it?’ asked Hwenfayre. She had spent most of the past few days never far from the Commander. In part, it was his wish. He seemed to derive some comfort from her company and they talked often. She also took comfort from him. He was much like Wyn in so many ways: his strength, his passion for the Sea and his surprising gentleness. She knew that none of his crew would accept that last of him. On a number of occasions she had seen his hardness when dealing with some disciplinary matter, but when they were together he was different.

They learned much about each other in those days.

His wife’s name was Mei Mei and they had a son and a daughter. The daughter was about Hwenfayre’s age, the son younger. His wife was an islander who had had the misfortune to be on a ship he captured early in his raiding days. He saved her from mistreatment at the hands of one of his crew by throwing the man overboard.

They were married a year later and had been happy every day since. Her name meant ‘beautiful flower’ and she felt the lack of flowers keenly. Hwenfayre suspected the Commander’s love for his wife was a part of his drive for the Raiders to find land to live on. It was clear from his descriptions that nothing grew where they lived and Mei Mei would never see another flower until he found her a new island.

For her part, Hwenfayre found herself telling him more of her childhood growing up with her mother in a walled town on a cliff. She told him of her music and her artwork. With a bittersweet smile she spoke of Niall. She told him about the fear and suspicions she had grown up with, and she told him about the wall.

But mostly she talked about Wyn.

She told the Commander about his smile, his dark eyes, his hands and his voice. She spoke about the time they spent in the small boat as they fled her home.

‘You fled?’ the Commander interrupted. ‘Why?’

Hwenfayre did not answer, afraid of telling too much, afraid that she had already told him too much. Instead, she stared out at the Sea once more, lost in her memories. The Commander let the moment pass, allowing her the freedom of her mind. It never came up again, but his curiosity burned.

He did not say much about Wyn.

But now, as he prepared his crew for the coming battle with a fast ship of the Children of the Raft, he paused and turned to her.

‘You may never see this Wyn again. Not after what is coming. I hope you told him you loved him.’ Leaving her to her confusion, he went about the business of readying his vessel for battle.

The
Misty Seal
was a well-armed warship that had seen many battles and she was in a state of semi-preparedness at all times. She came about to face the oncoming Children’s ship as if hungry for the simplicity of battle. The weeks of uncertain hunting and nervous waiting sloughed off her like a caruda shedding its scales. Almost like a predator herself, she sprang forward to unleash her fury at the enemy.

As they closed, the Commander squinted at the flag she flew. ‘Watch!’ he called to the crewman perched atop the mainmast. ‘What flag does she fly?’

‘Ours!’ he replied.

‘Do you know her?’ the Commander called back.

‘No.’

‘Does she ready weapons?’

‘No, Commander. And she is lightly manned.’

The Commander weighed up his options quickly and came to a decision. ‘Hold all fire!’ he called. ‘Half-speed!’ he ordered the crew on the sails. With the efficiency borne of much drill, the sails were hauled in and the
Misty Seal
slowed in the water. The other vessel continued to scythe through the water towards them. When it came to within hailing distance, it slowed and came about.

‘Ho, the
Misty Seal
!’ a voice drifted across the water. ‘I bring a message for the Commander.’

‘What about?’ replied the Commander.

‘I am Nolin, Navigator of the First Rank. A Child of Danan. I bring important news of Morag and the Danan!’

‘Prepare to be boarded,’ the Commander roared back.

The Commander, Officer Manno and three heavily armed crewmen boarded the
Merial
where they were met by Nolin and Sacchin. Wyn stood aside, watching, listening.

Since Wyn’s heritage had been revealed, Sacchin regarded him suspiciously, but not with hostility. His time with Nolin had made him see the Children in a different light. The idea that they must always be the enemy had faded, leaving him confused and troubled. For all his life the Children, be they of the Raft or of Danan, had been people of mysticism and fear. They swept across the Sea unchallenged, ruling over her and enjoying her bounty. No one could share her or command her.

But when he was captured by the Raiders and became one with them, he learned of a new vision, one where the Children were not to be merely feared and held in awe, but to be challenged, even threatened. He shared the Commander’s vision, although he never spoke of it.

Nolin had shown him the people behind the legend. He spoke often about life on the Sea, the wild and sometimes fierce joys of living without land. He told Sacchin about his early training, the teachers he had, the friends he made and the exhilaration of not
only knowing the Sea with such intimacy but of seeing her commanded. For the first time in his life, the islander-turned-Raider started to see the Priestesses not as merely terrifying icons of mystical power but as the guardians of a people who used their powers to feed and to guard.

Of all the tales he heard, it was the stories of Danan that captured Sacchin’s attention. When Nolin spoke to the Commander of the Danan’s return to the world he felt a fire stir within him. No matter what was about to happen, he would meet this mysterious woman.

A half-heard phrase caught his attention.

‘You are telling me,’ the Commander was saying, ‘that the Priestesses can communicate over vast distances almost instantaneously by means of their harps?’

‘Yes, they can. It is a magical thing that they have kept secret for centuries. There are many, even among their own people, who don’t know about it.’ He shot a suspicious look at Wyn. ‘But some do,’ he added.

‘And using this they can coordinate their attacks?’ the Commander went on. Nolin nodded. ‘So they are heading to the Wrested Archipelago to wait in ambush?’

‘That’s the plan.’

Officer Manno lit his pipe. As he did so, he frowned. ‘Is there any way of avoiding the ambush? And perhaps turning the decks on them?’

‘Not without being able to communicate with your own fleet and having them meet somewhere else, no.’

‘Then we will face the whole fleet, which will be armed with the wild magic of this mystical Danan?’

Nolin nodded. ‘Looks that way,’ he said.

The Commander looked across at Officer Manno and raised his eyebrows in silent query. Manno shook his head. The Commander sighed, his eyes closing in something akin to despair.

‘I can help,’ Nolin suggested.

‘How?’ asked Manno.

‘I know these waters better than any man alive,’ he said. ‘I can help outrun and avoid their attack boats.’ He held the Commander’s eye steadily, ‘But I will not betray my own people to their deaths. I will not fight for you.’

‘Haven’t you already betrayed your own people?’ asked Wyn.

Nolin turned slowly to face Wyn. ‘You. I don’t understand you at all,’ he said. ‘You left your people years ago. And yet you find the Danan and bring her home. Then you hand her over to Morag and join your sworn enemies to find her again. And you can quietly stand there and accuse me of betraying my own people. You’re not consistent.’

‘Only if you don’t know the whole story.’

‘And that is what I have been trying to find out but you have told me nothing.’

The Commander watched this exchange with interest. ‘You know this Danan?’ he asked. Wyn nodded. ‘You may hold the key to this whole thing. If you can identify her, I can capture or maybe kill her.’

Wyn shot the Commander a hard look. ‘I may have joined your people for a while,’ he said. ‘But I
am not one of you. I sailed with you for one reason and one reason only: to find Hwenfayre. When I find her, I am going to leave you and go wherever she does, and I will kill anyone who gets in my way.’

The look on the Commander’s face was not what Wyn usually saw from a man he had just threatened with death. Instead of anger suffused with a tinge of fear, he saw stunned incredulity. ‘What did you say her name was?’

‘Hwenfayre.’

‘And what does she look like?’

Wyn told him.

‘I think you had better come with me.’ He gestured for Wyn and Nolin to follow him. ‘Officer Manno, you remain here as Sacchin’s First Officer. Coordinate with him. I will send over some more men to crew and arm this vessel.’

As he had known so many other things he had no right to know, Aldere knew his relatives and lifelong friends would feel awkward around him after his defence of the village. He saw their faces as the strange fiery creature advanced. They were going to die and they knew it.

He had seen their faces after he had killed the creature with the river’s water. They were more terrified of him than they were of their own deaths. In the few moments when the beast stood, they had faced, accepted and consented to their deaths. Aldere knew that what he had done violated everything they knew as right about the world, and rather than thank him for saving their lives, they would blame him for ruining their world view.

Of course no one came out and said this, most of them would die never knowing or understanding it, but nonetheless he knew they would eventually reject him for daring to save them. He bore them no rancour nor did he blame them. It was his fault.

On the day when he finally stopped trying to explain, only one person said goodbye.

‘So you are leaving,’ Michaela said.

‘Yes,’ said Aldere. ‘It’s time I stopped bothering everyone.’ She stood uncertainly for a moment. Aldere smiled at her. ‘You can come with me if you like,’ he said, ‘But I won’t think ill of you if you don’t.’

Her eyes brightened. ‘Really?’ she asked. ‘I can come?’

‘Of course you can come. I have no idea where I am going but I would welcome the company.’

‘When do we leave?’ she asked.

‘Right now,’ Aldere said.

‘I’ll just go and pack some things,’ she said.

‘Don’t,’ said Aldere.

‘Why not?’

‘Because if you go and do that your father will talk you out of going.’

‘Oh, don’t be silly,’ Michaela chided.

‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘If you want to come with me, come now or stay here forever.’

Michaela frowned. ‘You have always been the strange one, haven’t you?’ she said.

Aldere nodded, for once not sure what was going to happen.

‘For years I have watched you,’ Michaela went on, ‘and you have never been wrong. Did you know that? Never once have you been wrong about anything. Not the weather, not relationships, not even about cooking.’

Aldere had wondered if anyone had noticed.

‘So if you say that I won’t come with you if I don’t come now,’ she went on, ‘I’d better come with you now, hadn’t I?’

He nodded.

They headed south, away from the Great Fastness and the increasingly angry mountains. Aldere had packed very few things: some clothes, a pot, some cooking implements and a blanket. Michaela had nothing but the clothes she wore. They were not in love, they were barely friends in the true sense of the word, but they had grown up together in a small village that had little contact with the outside world. Theirs was a relationship that went beyond words. They knew each other better than many married couples ever do.

During that first day they walked contentedly, rarely needing to speak, simply enjoying each other’s company, the sun in the sky above them and the earth beneath their feet, not once looking back. As darkness fell, Aldere found them a sheltered place within a thicket. There was a small stream running by and it was easy to find some berries and roots for their meal.

They shared the blanket like children, lying close for warmth, chatting and laughing about their shared worlds with the uninhibited freedom that only darkness can bring. Dawn brought a clear and sunny day full of anticipation and adventure. They breakfasted on more berries, drank deeply from the stream and continued south.

It did not take them long to lose track of time as they journeyed. All those they met were friendly and welcoming, and they rarely lacked for anything. Aldere found that for once his uncanny gift for knowing the rightness of things was valued, not treated with suspicion. Each person, each farm, each
merchant had something that they needed, and Aldere was able to help them all. He dispensed advice with quiet dignity whenever asked. Michaela watched and listened.

‘Aldere,’ she asked him one day, ‘why is it that you are always right?’

‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘I have always known things that I should not know. Ever since I was a child, I knew what people felt and how to solve their problems. Even when my father was killed, I knew I had to run away and let him die. I knew I would not survive if I tried to fight the Skrin Tia’k and so I ran.’

‘I heard a lot of stories about that day,’ said Michaela. ‘But that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you mention it. What happened?’

Aldere shook his head. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Why not?’

‘There are some things, Michaela, that you should not hear.’

Michaela nodded. She looked off into the distance, shading her eyes from the sun’s glare. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked suddenly.

‘South.’

‘Why?’

Aldere followed her gaze. ‘That’s why,’ he said, pointing.

In the distance smoke was rising. Michaela squinted. ‘What is that?’

‘Wrong,’ said Aldere. Without looking back he started running.

He ran, and as he ran an anger he had known before built within him. It rose like a tide, filling his
mind, driving out all thoughts of home, of peaceful times shared with Michaela. He was coldly furious. This was wrong. It must not happen!

With the anger came power. As he ran, he ran faster and faster until he was flying. His feet left the ground and he shot through the air like an arrow. He approached the fire, feeling the wrongness increase with every heartbeat until the pain of it tore a cry of anguish from his throat.

His cry rang across the plain, shocking the Skrin Tia’k into stillness. They paused from their attack on the farm and looked up to where a screaming projectile was hurtling towards them. They turned as one, clicking in a new rhythm, a harsh, jarring call to their Azar’Methyst to cease its devouring and face a new threat. The fire pulled back from its meal and rose above the smoking wreckage. It roared in anger and surged towards Aldere, sparking new fires wherever it moved. The Skrin Tia’k also stood to meet the threat, bursting into their full battle form, their wings and strike limbs ready.

Aldere slowed and dropped to his feet. His eyes shone with anger, his whole body twitched with the barely contained power within.

As one, the whole battle knot of Skrin Tia’k sprang into the air, screeching in rage, sending a shattering wave of sound across the plain. Even so far away, Michaela threw herself down to the ground in pain, clutching at her ears. Aldere stood, icy-cold calm ruling his anger, watching their display.

They swirled in the air above him, rising ever higher until they abruptly ceased their screeching and dived. Aldere called out in a language he did not
know and punched a fist towards them. With a mighty crack that rang out for miles around, a huge bolt of lightning shattered the clear sky and smashed into them, sending them fluttering to the ground in pieces.

The Azar’Methyst paid no attention to the lightning. Being a creature of flame, it had no fear of superheated gas. It advanced upon the puny man-creature, seeing only food. Aldere cried out again, raising his other hand, open to the heavens, calling down the only thing a creature like this would fear—rain.

Clouds formed out of nothing, swirling into vast heaped masses that towered above the smoking, ruined farm. With another cry, Aldere summoned the waters.

They poured down, sending the Azar’Methyst into a frenzy of writhing agony. It smoked and steamed, screaming as its life was extinguished.

Aldere watched dispassionately, keeping the waters on it until its final flickering flame vanished. Only then did he stop the rain and send the clouds on their way, and only then did Aldere look at the destruction the knot had wrought.

By the time Michaela had staggered to where the farm had once stood, Aldere was on his knees, weeping. He held a dead child in his arms, and around him lay the rest of the family, all burned, all dead. Michaela watched him, wondering how he could weep so and not make a sound. She reached up to rub her ears, and pulled her hands away. They were soaked in blood.

Aldere wept to the unheeding skies.