Awakening Page 21

  She stopped and spun around, looking up. Drifting toward her was a long, serpent-shaped cloud, the tail swishing back and forth through the blue. Nuathin. Brilliant colours swirled about him, forming and reforming along his crest, and his eyes were a shining bright purple.

  Greetings Azim, the serpent’s voice was deep with an underlying hiss.

  He drifted down to float before her.

  Was Azim another name for her, she wondered?

  No, Nuathin’s voice came again and there was amusement in his tone. Azim is all two-legged ones, humanssss. His head waved from side to side.

  ‘Where am I?’ she asked carefully. She could not be mind voicing.

  No, not mind voice. Nuathin bobbed up and down before her. Mind voice is waking talk, this is deep voicing: mind join. Your thoughts are mine, as mine are yours.

  ‘But, why can’t I hear your thoughts?’

  This is not true mind join, only part. Mind join is special. We do not like to join with all, only those who are Arrackin, who can be trusted. He drew out the s in the word to a hiss and his head rose higher so he stared down at her. You are here but you are not, it is safer until we know you. We need to know who you are.

  We? she thought.

  The Hive, Nuathin hissed as he dove down toward the stream of lights, then suddenly turned and came back, stopping so close his wraith-like head almost touched her face. My sermorphim, we do not know you.

  Semorphim? Shaan tried to calm her panic. That was what the serpents called themselves.

  Yes, the Hive. All semorphim speaking together. Nuathin turned his head back down toward the lights, then eyed her again. We don’t know you, he hissed.

  ‘But you do. I am Shaan, I was here before.’

  No! Nuathin suddenly snapped.

  Afraid, she said, ‘But you thought you knew me last time’.

  Last time? Nuathin wavered back and forth, puzzled, his tail flicking. Last time? His voice grew vague and the vaporous image of him wavered and moved further away, drifting.

  ‘Nuathin?’ Shaan tried to send her thought to him.

  He stopped, hovering, and then turned toward her again. She could barely see him. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was not sure of what he was seeing. Suddenly, a savage shot of anger hit her like a physical blow sending her tumbling back through the blue and he bore down upon her, his eyes flaming red.

  Last time! I felt you! Who are you? He shouted into her mind.

  Terrified, she shrank back and he stopped in front of her, his great head lowered.

  I remember, he hissed slowly. Yes. You are like him, so like, but you are not him. Not.

  ‘Him?’ Shaan trembled.

  His head came around and he looked straight at her, the purple in his eyes became deeper and darker, and the blue vapour around them seemed to vibrate.

  Arak. Him, he hissed.

  Her insides dropped. She knew of whom he was talking: the Fallen, Azoth.

  Little Azim, Nuathin hissed, his translucent tail circling around her. We have thought he might have had fledglings. We thought, we thought, but no, we are told it cannot be, he cannot, none of them can. But your blood sings to us, little Azim, we feel it singing, singing. As we feel his. Are you Arak-si?

  ‘No,’ Shaan whispered staring at the serpent. ‘My father was . . .’ She stopped. Who was her father? She had never known, and now Tallis . . . panicking she closed her mind on her thoughts, afraid the serpent would hear. ‘My father was from the Isles,’ she said.

  But who was his hatcher? And his before and before and before? Nuathin writhed around her, jostling her in his wake. Perhaps you are a messenger from him. Yessss. The world has become old without him and the true paths forgotten. Has he sent you to show us again, we wonder? He drifted about her muttering and she tried to catch his attention.

  ‘Nuathin, what do you mean?’ But the serpent ignored her, drifting aimlessly back and forth as if she were not there, hissing to himself. Afraid, Shaan looked down again at the Hive. Was that the way out? The lights ebbed and pulsed in waves, and as she stared it seemed to get closer, or was she drawing nearer? A strange prickling tickled her mind, as though it were being stroked by the wings of many moths.

  We feel him. Nuathin’s voice suddenly hissed loudly, and he thrust his head before her like a snake. Who are you, small Azim?

  ‘I am Shaan,’ she answered uneasily. ‘You have seen me in your crell before, I came to . . .’

  No! He interrupted her and his voice suddenly became almost a whisper. Are you his messenger? He stared into her eyes.

  She trembled and wondered if his mind was whole. A loud roar came from him and he thrust his head toward her, his eyes flaming red.

  He will look for you, he hissed, baring his fangs. Come, we will show you. Shaan tried to move away, but his tail curled around her and she heard a cacophony of voices screaming, followed by a roaring sound like a wave rushing toward the shore. She looked down at the Hive and saw a thick stream of light arcing up at her. She struggled to rise away, but with a hiss Nuathin swept a wing over her head and pulled her down into the Hive.

  Voices in the dark. Like the sound of silk sheets rustling together. She couldn’t make out the words, only the sounds, a wave rising and falling around her. She struggled to remember where she was. She’d been afraid; she remembered that, and falling. Was she dreaming?

  She looked down but there was nothing to see. Everything was dark: soft darkness wrapped around her like a cloak. Should she be worried? She tried to grasp the thought, but it rose away from her like smoke. She must be dreaming, but it was a strange dream. A small voice in her mind was saying something, but she couldn’t hear it properly, and it seemed such an effort to try to listen. She pushed it away and drifted on, trying to ignore it. It came back. She shook her head annoyed, if only it would leave her in peace. Around her the voices whispered and shushed, and the voice in her mind became louder. It was disturbing the others, it wasn’t peaceful anymore. The dark changed, it became threatening, the voices growing sharper.

  Who is she? The voice in her mind suddenly surfaced and it was burning and pain. She recoiled but it followed, jabbing at her, questioning. Who is she? She sought to escape, pushing back against it, and then she remembered where she was. She was in the Hive. Panic overwhelmed her. She was trapped!

  Nuathin, was he here? Or had he left her to drown in the darkness. There was nothing here but voices. Nuathin? She cried out. There was no answer, but she could feel a presence hovering, watching.

  Nuathin, are you there?

  Who are you? A multi-layered voice spoke.

  I’m Shaan.

  No, we feel you are more.

  She responded in frustration. I am only Shaan.

  No! You are like him. We can see it, feel it, smell it on you. The one who named us, his mark is on you. Is he coming for us? Arak-siii. The voices dragged the words out in a hiss, the sound spreading through the dark, their voices floundering on top of each other. Has he found us? . . . Take us along the true paths . . . He left us, why would he send another? She has his mark even after so long I feel him . . . we have not been true, will he forgive us? Sadness and yearning followed the last voice and she spun around, trying to isolate where they were. But they were everywhere and nowhere. Their words surrounded her, growing, murmuring, filling her mind. She couldn’t breathe. With a desperate effort she screamed, What do you want? Tell me!

  All sound stopped. Show her, a single voice whispered. There was a pause and then a wrench and a flood of pain as every serpent in the Hive wove their consciousness through hers. A rushing, tugging pull slammed into her, white light stabbed her eyes and suddenly she could see. She was flying. Wind whipped her eyes and her tail lashed out behind, testing the thermal. It was wonderful, terrible, exhilarating. She was not alone. She felt them all, the others, there with her, sharing, joined.

  They swooped down toward thick jungle, hungering for the hot damp, a fire in their belly. The trees were thick
and thrashed aside as their membraned wings plunged down, wood cracking, vines tearing. Then they were through and the sweet, wet scent of the earth rose to their nostrils. The river, pungent, fast flowing and brown, slipped past beneath them. And they could see the walls, stone and warm before them, where He waited.

  A small, frightened voice inside quailed at the sight of the city of her dreams, at the familiar gates and scent of the earth; but it was swallowed by the others, subjugated, and she went with them, passing through, slipping from herself and into their joining. Others flew alongside them, and Azim, two-legged, wandered below. And He was there, up ahead, waiting for them, calling for them. They could feel him singing in their blood. Arak, they chorused joyfully. Arak. They were whole.

  He stood, dark haired, indigo-eyed, and in his hand was the Stone and they wished, they wished, that this time he would pick them.

  Enough!

  Light and pain pierced her and she was thrown away. Screaming, she tried to hold on, but they pushed her back into the blackness.

  Can she find him? The hybrid voice came again, threshing her mind and Shaan whimpered unable to respond. Is she a messenger?

  She can tell him. A deep throbbing voice broke through. We are true. We wait. Show her!

  And the pain came again, dragging her in, splitting her apart. Her eyes were forced open to a place she knew well: the Dome. But the light was brighter, illusionary, and she was nothing, but she could see.

  Serpents hovered in the air, dozens of them wingtip to wingtip, surrounding the Dome. There were so many and she could see nothing beyond them but the sky, a strange purple sky, cloud rippled and golden limned. Standing on the rooftop was a man. He was tall and dark-haired and she could not see his face; she knew he was not a man. She knew who he was. She could feel him, his being sang in her blood. It terrified and chilled her to the core.

  Arak, the serpents hissed in unison, and Shaan saw far below into the Dome. It was filled with people, terrified, staring people. They were trapped, waiting for their fate. She looked up into the sky and realised it was not clouds but smoke filling the air and, turning, she saw the city of Salmut on fire.

  Tell him we wait, the voice hissed, and in terror she saw the man on the platform begin to turn his head, as though he heard. She was seized with a sudden, terrible knowledge that he must not see her. She fought to escape, although she did not know how. She pushed against them screaming, feeling him turning, turning. There was a ripping, tearing pain and she flew into a blackness so complete she was lost to it.

  Shaan opened her eyes to the floor of Nuathin’s crell. She was laying face down, her head twisted to one side. In the dim light she could see the serpent’s tail curled around his body and, beyond, the opening to the Dome. With a sense of disorientation she noticed shafts of moonlight dappling the narrow ledge. There was no sound but for the breathing of the serpent beside her.

  Slowly, she pushed herself up to her knees, wincing as a savage pain arrowed through her skull. Her hand was burning and she lifted it up to see the bandage was soiled and rucked up around her fingers. She looked at Nuathin. He appeared once more to be asleep, but she was sure he was not. She struggled to her feet. How long had she been here? Standing, she stared at Nuathin. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked long and silently at her. She remembered everything.

  The serpents were planning to destroy the city, to kill all the people.

  No, Nuathin’s voice came into her mind, hissing like water on hot wood.

  Then what? Shaan sent the thought back at him. What did the Hive show me?

  The Hive shows truth. True feelings. That we are waiting and are true to him.

  Him again. She took a long deep breath and felt the sudden wavering fear as she remembered Azoth, turning to look at her. Could she believe it? Was he back? How could it be true? It had been so long, he was a legend, a myth.

  Why, Nuathin? She sent to him. Why show me that?

  The serpent turned his head so he was looking at her from his blue eye, his barrel-sized nostrils sending hot air over her. A message.

  Shaan clenched her hands into fists. I don’t understand.

  Nuathin blew a stream of air over her. I am hungry. Hunt now. Come back next high sun. And rising quicker than she would have thought possible, he turned and leaped from the ledge into the open air of the Dome. His tail dragged with a screech over the edge and his wings opened sending dust spiralling back over her. He dipped once then rose and flapped up, disappearing from her sight.

  23

  Shaan crept out from the Dome. It was well after sunset and all the other yard workers had gone home. Through the trees she could see the dim glow of lamps in the riders’ complex, but around the Dome it was dark. There was no moon and the sky was ink black and bright with stars.

  She walked down the hard packed dirt path then veered off, taking a narrow track that led down and around the back of the complex to the eastern gate. It was very quiet and the track was barely visible in the dim starlight. The trees were thin shadows and there was a still dampness in the air. She could hear the sea washing up against the rocks of the coast below, like the breath of a distant giant.

  She wondered whether Tuon would be back at the inn yet, or whether Torg would be looking for her. He would have expected her to work tonight and no doubt would be angry she wasn’t there. Her hand throbbed dully and the skin itched beneath the bandage. She tried not to think about it and kept going down the dark path. She was numbed by her experience and stared down at her feet as she went, watching them move one in front of the other as if in a dream, until suddenly she stopped, her heart in her throat.

  She felt him before she saw him. It was an acute awareness, a stretching of herself that she’d not felt before but recognised instinctively. She looked into the dark shadows of the trees.

  ‘Come out, I know you’re there.’

  He didn’t say anything for a moment and then his hesitant voice came from the dark. ‘Can you feel it too?’

  She didn’t reply. She felt stretched taught as wire. It was the man from before – Tallis. The awareness of him was strong now, filling her, alien but familiar.

  ‘Come out,’ she repeated and heard the tremor in her voice.

  He came out then onto the path, the faint starlight catching in the small bands of silver at the end of his braids.

  ‘Shaan.’

  Her insides jolted. ‘How do you know my name?’

  ‘Balkis told me. I just wanted to see you, I thought . . .’ he spread out his hands. He was taller than she, broader across the shoulders, and he wore his hair long. But it was black and thick like her own and his dark purple eyes stared at her in the faint light.

  ‘What do you want?’ she demanded, but she already knew and only spoke to stave off the inevitable, to try to deny what he would tell her.

  ‘I am your brother, Shaan.’

  ‘I don’t have a brother. I don’t have any family, they are all dead.’

  He let out a long breath and shook his head. ‘I know you feel it; I can feel it in you. You are my sister, look at us! You cannot deny how alike we are.’

  Her heart thumped against her ribs. ‘You are a clansman, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘From the desert. How . . .’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He moved a step toward her.

  ‘Stop!’ She put her hands up.

  ‘Shaan.’ He stopped, but his expression was pleading. ‘My mother – our mother – gave birth to twins, to us. But you were small, sick, and it is the way of the clans to give back to Kaa those he has already marked for himself.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You were left out in the sands to die.’ His mouth twisted. ‘The leader of my clan put you there, but our mother saved you, she sent someone to save you.’

  ‘It’s not possible,’ she repeated. ‘My mother was from Goreth, near the Pleth Ranges, I was born there.’

  ‘Were you?’ he said. ‘Or is it possible you were given t
o her? A child given to a woman who could not have her own. A gift.’

  Shaan said nothing, but deep inside a curl of doubt began to drift upward, like a feather borne on smoke. Her mother had never had anymore children, not even with all the men she had kept company with. She had always thought it was because of the crist.

  ‘I’ve seen those mountains, Shaan,’ he insisted. ‘They are near the border of the clan lands.’ He was staring at her, but still she didn’t reply.

  ‘Who was your father, then?’ he said.

  Shaan hesitated, her fingers suddenly cold. ‘He is dead.’ She folded her arms about herself and Tallis sighed and came a step closer.

  ‘Perhaps, but our mother is not,’ he smiled. ‘And you are as stubborn as she. Her name is Mailun and she is of the Ice People, the Ichindar, and she would weep to know you live.’

  His eyes shone in the dark and Shaan felt such an overwhelming surge of emotion run through her that she stepped back, her breath short and ragged. She stared at him, afraid. ‘My mother is dead,’ she whispered.

  ‘No. The woman who raised you is dead, your mother is not.’

  Shaan stood very still. She thought of words she could use to deny what he said. She wanted to rail against him, to push him away, and yet she could not. She could not deny what stood in front of her. His presence pulled at her insides like an invisible cord. It was not possible, but she would not have thought what had just happened with Nuathin possible either.

  ‘Shaan?’ He put a hand out but she drew back. She didn’t want him to touch her, but she could not find the will to deny his words – they felt like truth.

  ‘Can we talk? Will you come back to the room they have given me? We have much to tell each other.’

  She hesitated, but could think of no reason to refuse. ‘For a short while,’ she said.

  ‘Good, come then.’ He turned and began to walk, glancing back at her almost every step. She followed, keeping her distance.

  The room he had in the barracks was small, similar to all the other rooms. The other man from the clans sat on one of the four beds, leaning against the wall. He was taller than Tallis, his brown hair tied back in many braids, and he smiled at her as she entered.