Awakening Read online

  He reached the tunnels to the springs and breathed deeply the warm, moist air as he descended. The main tunnel led to the large communal springs but he avoided it, turning instead down a smaller branch that led to a series of springs, deep in the caves big enough only for one or two. The only sound was the slow drip and bubble of the water coming up from the earth. Small lamps provided a dim green light and released a dusty, sweet smell into the air. He picked one out of its crevice and carried it to the very last spring at the end of the tunnel, a place he often went now.

  Light was emanating from the shallow cave and Karnit was sitting on the edge of the pool. He stopped, but the Clan Leader saw him and, lifting a hand, beckoned him forward.

  ‘Come in boy.’

  Slowly, Tallis approached. Karnit sat with his feet in the small pool of bubbling dark water, watching him through the rising steam. The lamplight caught the sharp bones in his face and made deep shadows in his gaunt cheeks.

  ‘Sit,’ he said.

  Tallis hesitated.

  ‘Well, did you come here to wash and ease your muscles or not?’

  ‘Are you looking for me, Leader?’ Tallis said.

  Karnit peered at him in the dim light and his feet swished back and forth through the water.

  ‘I often come here; this spring has the hottest water, good for my old feet, and it’s almost always empty. Get in if you want to boy.’ He looked down and fell silent.

  Apprehension made Tallis’s chest tight. Karnit was lying. He had never seen him down here before; the Leader had his own private spring. But he could not simply turn and walk out. Karnit had spoken, invited him to share the water, to leave now would be seen as a snub.

  Uneasy, he put the lamp down and quickly stripped off his stinking clothes, entering the small pool and sitting as far across from the Leader, and as near to the cave’s entrance as possible. The water was very hot and came up nearly to his shoulders. He could feel the current running along the floor of the pool, the bubbles brushing past his toes as the water pushed up through a hole that ran deep into the earth.

  They sat for some time. Water dripped down from the roof.

  ‘I never knew my mother,’ the old hunter suddenly spoke in the silence. ‘She died the night I was born, during the storm cycle.’

  Tallis sat stiffly saying nothing, staring at the dark water.

  ‘It was the last day of the storms. I was in her belly ready to emerge when she fell into a questing trance and walked out into it. She was unusual. There have been no others since to move from the cave during a questing and perhaps none with her talents. She had me out there in that storm. She had me and then she suffocated in the sand. I was found beside her the next morning. Many could not believe it. No man had ever survived a storming before, never mind a child. Some said that she passed something on to me at her death, or that she made a deal with Kaa.’ He watched Tallis through the steam.

  ‘My father refused to take me. He said I was touched by the Fifth Guide and would bring trouble to clan. But the leader did not like my father and took me in to his home to raise me as his own. My father took his knife to his own throat.’

  Tallis’s mouth was dry. Why was he telling him this?

  ‘Times were different then, to be turned on by clan was . . .’ Karnit paused and let out a slow breath. ‘The kindness of the leader was barely a kindness at all. Many could not forget how I came to be. It is not easy to be different in this clan, Tallis,’ he half hissed, half whispered his name. ‘Many would see differences as destructive and seek to rid a clan of them.’

  ‘And yet you are leader now,’ Tallis said softly.

  ‘Be careful boy!’ Karnit’s eyes glittered. ‘I am the Leader now.’ He held his gaze and his voice became low and threatening. ‘Because of the hatred between two men I was allowed to survive. I was given a chance by the Guides; I became their tool to purify the clans, for what better seeker of difference than one who knows the mark of it as well as he knows his own skin.’

  Coldness settled in Tallis’s bones. There was no mistaking his meaning. The old man held his well-muscled arms out and turned them slowly, looking at them.

  ‘I am an old man now, sixty-three years, yet there is much strength left in me. Strength to do what the Guides made me for.’ He looked at Tallis steadily, his eyes pale and hard as he leaned toward him. ‘And I will do that. I will seek out and remove all the differences that weaken my people. The unclean behaviour, the unlawful abilities, and the bloodlines that are mixed with those not of the sands. This clan will be pure.’ He lifted his feet from the water and walked to the cave’s entrance picking up his lamp.

  ‘The Circle has decided we will attend the Gathering. I have chosen a handful of men to go with me and you will be among them. We leave at first light tomorrow.’

  Tallis looked up in surprise and saw a feral smile split the leader’s lips baring his yellowed teeth. ‘As for your position in this clan, Tallis, the Guides may have decided you shall remain for now; but I was there boy, I saw what you did, I know what you are and there is no place for you in this clan.’ He spat into the water near him and with a venomous look, turned and left.

  Tallis sat in the pool, unable to move, a deep chill filling him despite the hot water. He knew. Karnit knew. Tallis had seen it in the cold sneer of his thin lips and the contempt in his gaze. Karnit knew he was not Haldane’s true son and he wanted him gone. Gone, away from him and from clan. There was no doubt. His words had been clear enough. The Leader thought him a disease in the clan, a stain to be scrubbed from existence.

  He stared at the steam rising and water bubbling and a dark thought came to him that made panic and fear rise. What of his mother? Was she also on Karnit’s list of purification? Was that why he wanted him to go to the Gathering? It would be easy to claim he had suffered an accident while they were out alone in the sands. Mailun would be left unprotected. Jared’s mother would be able to do little against the leader of the clan. Karnit could force her out. She would have no more blood kin and no mate to claim her.

  Anger struck him, sharp and cold as blade. He could not let that happen. The Guides had shown the Dreamer that to be Outcast was not his destiny, and perhaps they were right; but they did not show all. He had to survive Karnit’s plans, whatever they were. He doubted the old man would try anything against his mother while they were at the Gathering, but when they returned, and if he was dead . . . Tallis’s fear became a hard rock of anger. He had to survive, for his mother’s sake. Tomorrow, when he went with them to the Gathering, he would be prepared.

  Shila snapped awake with a soft cry, her breathing ragged. She looked around. She was alone in the furs. Thadin must already have gone to see the Gathering party on its way. Why hadn’t he woken her! She scrambled to her feet. If she hurried perhaps she would make it. Stumbling in the dark she heard several of her pots tumble over as she brushed past, but she paid them no heed. She rushed through their small cave and pushed the screen open running out into the main tunnel. Oblivious to the quickly bowed heads, she ran, her sleeping robe streaming out behind, exposing her thighs. She neared the great cavern and heard voices and movement.

  She could see light there. Dim light. The sun was up. Was she too late? Distress twisted her insides as she burst out into the main cavern and raced to its mouth. She could see a small line of people. Thadin among them, their forms shadows at the entrance.

  She ran up to them and pushed through breathing hard, ignoring their quickly smothered protests. The cry died on her lips. She was too late. So far away now they were nothing but black dots and a whirl of sand, the members of clan were on their way to the Gathering, Tallis among them, out of her reach.

  ‘Shila?’ Thadin put his hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ She turned on him and he drew back.

  ‘I tried, but you would not wake. I didn’t . . .’ he trailed off. ‘What is it?’

  She felt cold. All standing there were watching her now, but
she could not tell them what she had seen. She shivered. Too late. She took a breath and looked out across the desert again, as though she could draw them back by her will alone. She could feel the others watching, apprehensive. But then a thought came unbidden, and turning she clutched Thadin’s arm. ‘Tell me, where is Jared?’

  Tallis kept his head down and trudged along behind the other men. There were twelve of them and he was one of the last two in line. A pall hung over them as, shoulders hunched, they moved forward through the heat and sand. Unspoken among them lay the fear: what if the black serpents found them? They were exposed. Tallis saw one of the men glance up at the sky, his face tense. No one spoke.

  Ahead of them all strode Karnit, carrying a pack and spear. Tallis wanted to stay as far from him as possible. He shifted his own pack and held his spear tightly. He could almost smell the enmity of the other men. They had been hand picked by Karnit and the majority were older than him by five years or more. He looked at the hunter beside him. Penrit was his age and he had known him since they were boys, though he had not liked him much then. He kept his sharp-nosed face staring straight ahead and walked quickly to keep space between them.

  The day wore on. The sun was hot on his back and an uneasy fear lingered within him. What was Karnit’s plan and when would he strike? Thoughts and possibilities circled endlessly. Tallis was constantly on edge, his senses stretched taught as he tried to keep alert to what the men around him were doing, as well as keeping a wary eye on the horizon for any sign of the black serpents. He didn’t even want to think about what he might do if the beasts found them out here again.

  The party stopped once during the day, halting at a sandblasted old well to refill their water skins. Tallis was the last to restock his supply and he saw Karnit watching him as he poured water into his skin from the ancient bucket.

  The leader’s eyes were narrowed but unreadable, and after a moment his gaze shifted and he said to the others, ‘We make for the Stolen Well. Come!’ He turned and the men followed.

  Tallis tried to drop to the back of the group, but was stopped by an old hunter named Relldin. Eyes hard as flint, Relldin’s mouth curled in contempt as he pushed Tallis to walk beside Penrit again. The young hunter gave him a hostile stare and Tallis looked away.

  The sun dropped and the party reached the well as the first cool air of evening started to drift across the dunes. The Stolen Well was a ring of rock on the edge of Jalwalah lands. It had been named to honour the clan’s success in taking it from the Raknah, long before he was born. Large boulders, their edges smoothed by sand and wind, formed an almost perfect circle around a sand floor open to the sky. A small underground spring bubbled up from under a slab of red stone at the far end of the circle, forming a pool, before trickling back into the ground again. Karnit ordered the men to set up their sleeping mats within the circle of stone. It was an uncomfortable camp. Tallis set up his own area against a boulder away from the spring and as far from the others as he could, then pulled a strip of dried meat from his pack and chewed on it. Most of the men were filling their water sacks, talking quietly as they pulled out rations of dried meat or small journey breads from their packs. There would be no fire tonight. They would turn in to their sleeping mats early and rise before the sun tomorrow, so eager were they to get some cover from the open, endless sky.

  The sun was gone, leaving only a long green-hued line where the sky met the earth. Soon it would be only black and bright with stars. He wondered briefly how his mother was, but then turned his mind from that path. There was nothing he could do for her out here. His task was to survive and make it back. But if he did, what future lay ahead for them? If Karnit did not succeed here what would he do to them later? How far would he go to purify his clan? He looked at the old man who sat talking on the far side of the camp, and for the first time he considered a life away from the Clans, away from the desert.

  The night deepened, but he did not sleep. He sat with his back against the rock, watching and thinking. None of the other men approached him, but occasionally he would see one glance his way. He held a small knife in his hand, down against his thigh, and kept himself awake by resting back against a sharp rock that poked into his spine.

  But the events of the past days had made him tired, and sometime in the deepest part of the night, he dozed. His lids fluttered closed, exhaustion overcoming him. They came for him then.

  He woke suddenly as rough hands grabbed him. Instinct made him fight back, but the knife had already been taken. Kicking out, he heard a man grunt and a fist slammed into his face. Pain splintered his vision and he squinted at the dark shadows and tried to lash out at the occasional glint of eye, but more fists sunk into his guts, punching the air out of him, and he collapsed, gasping, feeling the small hard rocks under his hands. A hard fist slammed into his kidneys and another smashed down on his temple as he lay on his side. It dazed him, and hands grabbed his ankles and began to drag him out of the camp. Rocks scraped his back and he grunted hoarsely. A hunter nearby turned his head, but did not come to his aid. The betrayal shredded him. Even though he had thought it might happen, still he could not believe it. They would not, surely they could not, do this to one of their own?

  Silently, the men dragged him out of the well and away from the rocks. The night was dark; the sands a dull pale glimmer in the starlight. They took him around the side where none could see and then stopped, dropping his legs. He heard the soft slide of metal on leather. Cold fear focussed him. Blood was running into his right eye and as a foot stepped toward him he rolled away. He tried to rise but a hand grasped his hair and pulled his head back. Ignoring the pain he twisted and swung a punch, but strong arms caught him, wrenching him back, forcing him to his knees. In a rage he grunted and fought, but they were bigger, stronger. He looked up and saw the other approach. Relldin, his short beard tinged with white. His eyes glinted and his face was grim, a mask. Starlight slid along the blade of his knife.

  ‘No!’ he shouted, surging in their grip. He would not die like this. His rage gave him strength and the grip of one faltered, but then Relldin gave a strange gasp. An expression of surprise appeared on his face, followed by a wash of black blood from his mouth and he fell forward, a knife protruding from between his shoulders.

  ‘Relldin!’ One of the men holding him hissed, but then a dark figure ran in from the desert and he was wrestled away. Tallis lunged from the grip of the other, his fingers scrambling for Relldin’s knife. A hand grabbed his ankle and he turned to see Penrit, his face set as he came for him. His fingers curled around the hilt of the knife and without thought he brought it up and buried it deep in the young man’s chest. Hot blood covered his hand and the shock of the impact travelled up his arm. Penrit grabbed at the knife, a look of pained surprise on his face, and with a shudder fell to the sand.

  Tallis got to his feet, staring at him, hollow with shock. There was no wind and all was silent but for Penrit’s dying body twitching softly.

  ‘Tallis.’

  Jared stood before him, dressed in a dark cloak of goatskin. They stood looking at each other, their hands wet with blood. Three men lay dead at their feet. Sickness rose in his gut and Tallis suddenly found it hard to stand. Everything seemed unreal, the world bleached of colour. There was nothing but shadow and sand and death. His earth brother being here seemed no surprise.

  Jared’s eyes were hollow and dark as though something inside had been broken and he lifted a hand toward him and pulled at his arm.

  ‘Come.’

  Unable to think, Tallis followed him away from the well and into the shadows of the desert.

  17

  They walked through the night. The sliver of moon paled and dropped to the horizon and the desert became a shadowed place, dark and quiet. The air was cold and Tallis watched his breath mist as they trudged further and further from the lands he knew.

  Barely visible on the horizon was the deeper shadow of the Black Mountains. A jagged range bare of life, it rose from
the sands, steep and sharp as teeth. His chest felt too hollow and something squeezed at his heart. Tallis glanced at Jared, but could barely see him in the pre-dawn darkness. He must have walked all night to reach him. Had he known what he would find?

  ‘The sun will rise soon,’ Jared said. ‘We’ll hunt for some food.’

  Tallis nodded and kept walking, the silence stretching between them.

  ‘Will we go back?’ he said quietly, his voice sounding weak to his ears.

  Jared’s eyes were shadowed by his hood. ‘We killed our own clansmen, brother. We can never go back.’

  The air in Tallis’s lungs turned to ice and a cold hand gripped his heart. Jared was right. The blood was still on his skin; he could smell it, hard and metallic, buried within the fibres of his shirt. Clan blood. It could never be washed away.

  ‘Why are you here?’ He forced the question from between dry lips.

  ‘The Dreamer came to me after you had gone. She told me I had to find you. The Guides had shown her that our paths lay away from our clan, beyond the Black Mountains. They don’t want us back, Tallis. It is done.’

  His voice was empty of emotion, as though Kaa had stolen his life away already. Tallis could say nothing. A sharp gust of wind pushed the hair back from his forehead, but its chill could not match the coldness of his despair. What was it that did this to those he loved? His father was dead, his mother alone, and now Jared. What did the Guides want from him?