Awakening Read online

  The guard on the gate of the serpent yards stood with his legs spread wide, one hand on his knife hilt. Shaan searched the pockets of her trousers for the square of wood with the stamp of a serpent burned into it.

  ‘Where’s old guard Gringely?’ She frowned, her hands were shaky this morning and her fingers fumbled.

  ‘Not here.’ The guard stared over her head with a bored expression.

  ‘Been out drinking or been gutted in a back street, or don’t you know?’ she snapped.

  The guard looked down at her with a sneer. ‘Pass now, woman, and stop giving me trouble.’

  ‘Here.’ Her fingers finally closed around the small piece of wood and she slapped it into his hand.

  His mouth twitched as he studied it a moment longer than necessary before handing it back. ‘Right, go on with you.’

  Shaan walked through the gate, her body aching with each step. Stretching her arms deep in her pockets she trudged along, her mind going over and over the day before. The events at the market seemed like a strange dream. Surely it wasn’t possible that a serpent would attack like that? But it had and the thing was, she felt as if she’d connected with it. That eye looking at her . . . she shook her head and rubbed at the bumps that rose on her arms. A foolish notion, why was she even thinking it?

  The news of the serpent’s attack had spread through the city and soon after the Guardian had posted notices and street criers announcing that citizens were not to be alarmed and that the particular serpent had been ill and sent back to the Serpent Isles. But still the damage was done. The Guardian could put out as many notices as she liked, Shaan thought, but she could not erase what people had seen and what they would say. The rumour mongers now had fuel for their fire.

  Mercifully, she had been spared the dream last night, but she had woken many times with the memory of the serpent’s eye looking down on her. She lengthened her stride and inhaled the warm morning air, trying to shake off her weariness. Her stomach grumbled and she pulled a piece of bread folded over soft cheese from her pocket. The sun was still an hour away from rising and the yards were shadowed and quiet, lamps glowing softly in sconces on the walls.

  The gate she had passed through was set away from the main thoroughfares. It opened into a narrow paved street that led into a large square surrounded by whitewashed buildings. Long walkways fronted the buildings, with porticoes stretching the length of each. To her left was the Fledgling riders’ barracks and facing her, one of the meals pavilions with a vaulted roof and huge double doors. Two smaller meals pavilions formed the square’s remaining sides and behind them were the kitchens, where Shaan was due to report later in the day. She walked quickly across the flat stones to cut between the pavilions, raising a hand in silent greeting to other workers carrying trays loaded with food.

  She passed the training arenas, busy with workers setting up for the day, through to an open grassed area, dotted with trees. Closer to the edge of the cliff, the riders’ barracks proper nestled among well tended gardens and, further still, near the edge of the promontory with a view to the sea, were the sept leaders’ lodges and the Commander’s villa. Immediately, Balkis’s face leaped into her mind, accompanied by a twinge of anxiety.

  Averting her gaze, Shaan kept moving up the hill toward the Serpent Dome, her heart beating a nervous rhythm in her chest. For the first time she’d been assigned duties among the serpents and she was nervous, especially after yesterday. The last thing she needed was to be thinking about Balkis. Taking a deep breath she pushed all thoughts of the blond-haired sept leader to the back of her mind and followed the path to the Dome.

  An ancient building, the Serpent Dome sat at the highest point of the cliff and was a single, round column made of lightcoloured stone. Topped with a domed roof, circled by a wide landing platform, it had taken the first people of Salmut seven years to build. It was the serpents’ home, the place she most wanted to be – as a rider. She just wasn’t sure if being assigned there as a worker was a blessing or a curse.

  Setting her jaw, she made for the storehouse, a small building behind the Dome near a copse of trees. Inside, the walls were hung with rakes, shovels and grooming tools. Huge sacks of fruit and grain were stacked many layers deep at one end and a rough wooden table sat in the corner near the door surrounded by four chairs, an oil lamp glowing brightly on top. Two other workers were already there piling fruit into baskets. Shaan nodded at them and sat at the table.

  She’d barely settled when the door swung wide, hitting the inside wall with a loud bang, and a man entered. Over six foot tall, he had a large belly that stuck forward and a dull face. His eyes fell on her. ‘You the new one?’

  He had to be the supervisor. Shaan stood up. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Get a rake. You’re on cleaning duty, crell 83, up the top.’ He leaned on the doorframe, his small eyes looking her up and down. ‘Heard you caused a bit of trouble for Sept Leader Balkis. Don’t hardly look big enough to me, but I guess any idiot can pick up a blade.’ Shaan glared at him, but held her tongue.

  He gave her a mean smile. ‘I don’t think you’ll cause any trouble here. You’re assigned to Nuathin. Wait here, I’ll send someone to show you the way.’ He laughed at the expression on her face, slapped the doorframe and left.

  Shaan felt faintly ill. Nuathin. The oldest of the serpents. He had once been favoured by the riders, but she’d heard that he now spent most of his time either sleeping or trying to injure anyone who went near him. He was the one exception to the rule of serpents not hurting humans. The last two workers assigned to him had ended up in the Healers Temple. She swallowed hard and went to choose a rake.

  As she was walking back to the table an old man came into the storehouse, his keen eyes going straight to her. ‘You the new one?’

  Shaan nodded.

  ‘All right, name’s Perrin. Come help me with this.’

  He went to an open sack of grain and began loading it into a set of baskets. Shaan followed, dipping a tin scoop into the sweet, malt-smelling seeds. Fine clouds of dust drifted in the air making her sneeze, but the old man seemed unaffected.

  ‘So, did they really catch the serpent yesterday?’ she asked him.

  Perrin didn’t pause or even look up. ‘That’s what the Guardian said, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’

  ‘That’s what she said and that’s good enough for me.’ He shrugged and pushed a full basket away with his foot.

  ‘Was the rider all right?’

  ‘How should I know? Not my business what the riders do and you shouldn’t worry either. It’s not for the likes of us to be asking questions of them.’

  ‘But have you seen him?’

  ‘Seen him?’ Perrin shook his head and gave a dry laugh. ‘I keep my head in the grain and my arse in the air and do my work. Besides, they’re strange folk those ones, flyin’ around.’

  Shaan swallowed any other questions. Plainly, Perrin thought the riders another breed. She dug the scoop back into the grain and wondered what he’d think of her dream of becoming one of them. As they worked he ran her through the finer points of working in the Dome: cleaning crells, delivering food, and what to do if a serpent became irritated.

  ‘Duck and scream for a rider!’ he chuckled. ‘But I’ve never had any trouble. Respect them and they’ll respect you – mostly.’

  Shaan wondered if that applied to Nuathin. They finished filling the baskets and Perrin gave her some rope to coil.

  ‘Just do this, then you go up to his crell. It’s best to give Nuathin a bit of extra time in the mornin’. He’s a grumpy old bastard.’

  He coughed and with a flutter of nerves in her stomach, Shaan asked, ‘How old is he?’

  Perrin shrugged. ‘No one really knows. Maybe five hundred, maybe less, maybe more.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve been here for get-tin’ on for thirty years now.’ He paused in his rope winding to scratch his white stubble, and stared up at the ceiling. ‘Yep, yep.’ He nodded, rubbing his nose. ‘Nearly
thirty years now. And I never met nobody yet knows his age. Course everybody knows about him and Faradin.’

  At Shaan’s blank look the old man sighed. ‘You know, what they did in the battle over the Free Landers’ country, capturing their leader, ending the war.’

  Shaan frowned as she tried to recall the histories Torg had taught her. She did know about the war that had split the people of Salmut. Several thousand had left, defying the Guardian’s rule, to start a new state to the north, beyond the Goran Ranges: the Free Lands. The war had lasted for close to fifty years.

  ‘How long ago was that though?’ she asked Perrin.

  The old man stared into space. ‘Near on two hundred and twenty odd years ago. But the question is, how long was he here before then?’ He squinted. ‘Now that’s a question. But there’s one thing I know, he wasn’t born down in the Isles like they are now. No. He came from somewhere else.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Aah well, he’s just different that’s all, just different.’

  ‘What do you mean different?’

  But Perrin just shook his head and continued winding his rope. ‘You’ll see what I mean. But if you want to know the age of him, why not ask him yourself?’

  Shaan snorted. ‘Right. I’ll just stroll right in there and have a nice long talk with the old beast.’ She shook her head. It would be a fine thing to be able to commune with a serpent, to mind voice. Riders spent years learning the skill, and the serpent had to be willing to teach them. Nuathin was more likely to crush her. She tied the rope ends and threw the coil into a barrow.

  ‘You’ll be all right girl.’ Perrin squeezed her arm. ‘Just watch him and he’ll leave you be. Never turn your back though, he’s a sly one that Nuathin.’

  Annoyance flared and Shaan snatched her arm back. ‘Thanks.’ She hefted the rake. ‘I can look after myself.’

  Perrin raised his hands up. ‘As you say. His crell is up the main spiral ramp, the fifth level near the top. Take the first right as you enter.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Shaan went outside, closing the door of the storehouse, and looked up. The Dome towered above her, casting a long shadow. There was no time to waste. She would be needed to serve the mid-meal in a few hours, and her tasks in the Dome had to be finished by then if she wanted to get paid. She gripped the rake and made her way up the short path to the workers’ entrance.

  It was surprisingly warm inside, despite the thickness of the walls. The outer wall was almost as thick as Shaan was tall, and she emerged from the tunnel-like entrance into a junction where walkways to the crells spiralled up either side of her between the inner and outer walls.

  Directly in front, a tunnel led through to the centre of the Dome. Shaan knew she should go up the sloping walkways straight away, but there was no one else about and it was her first time in the Dome. Checking quickly behind, she crept forward.

  The centre of the Dome was enormous and ringed by great stone pillars set wide apart to accommodate the serpents. Smooth walls soared high above her head, interrupted at regular intervals by ledges jutting out into the space, some with dozing serpents sprawled upon them. In the centre of the floor a huge brazier burned with a bright blue flame.

  Serpent fire. The stories said it had been sparked into life by Yuatha, the first serpent of Salmut, and had never gone out. In a shallow pool, fed by warm underground springs, two serpents bathed, their skins glinting in the light coming from a circle of coloured glass in the roof far above.

  Shaan stopped by the entrance, staring, dazzled by the play of light on the serpents’ hides. The smooth surface changed from pink to purple and then to a jewel-like green as they breathed. The female, slightly smaller than the male, swished her spiked tail, splashing water across the floor. The crest that extended from her head in a ridge down her neck glowed blue. Shaan had never been so close to a serpent. She was beautiful, otherworldly.

  As though hearing her thoughts, the serpent turned her head and looked at her. Shaan froze. It was as though she had looked through a spyglass. The serpent suddenly rushed into focus and she swore she could see the flecks of blue in the female’s golden eye. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and, for a moment, she was reminded of the rogue serpent in the courtyard. The great eye looking straight into her own. The blood singing in her ears.

  Something clattered on stone behind her, and Shaan jumped, her heart hammering. Tearing her eyes away she turned to see it was just another worker. He’d dropped a bucket in the entrance and was swearing as he swept the grain back up with his hands. Thankful it wasn’t the supervisor, Shaan rushed back down the tunnel. What was she doing wasting time? Her heart was beating a nervous tattoo, like a child caught stealing and, annoyed with herself, she moved quickly to the ramp that spiralled up to the crells.

  As she followed the curving walkway, she saw that most of the crells were empty: the serpents were out with their riders performing drills over the sea, or hunting in the low ranges inland.

  Nuathin’s chamber was on the last level near the top of the Dome. Shaan approached it and paused, leaning against the wall. She could hear the serpent breathing: the regular suck and blow of air like the sound of the sea heard from a distance. She peered around the doorway.

  He lay against the far wall, his head resting on the floor, his translucent eyelids closed and his veined wings folded back against his body. Unlike the serpents in the pool, Nuathin’s skin was a dull grey; the only hint of colour left was a small patch of blue clinging to the tip of his tail. His head was half her body length. If he’d been standing she would only just reach his shoulder joint.

  Beyond him, a wide archway opened to a dozing ledge and the centre of the Dome. Pale pink light dappled the edge of the opening. One swipe of Nuathin’s tail could send her over. Picking a corner furthest from the serpent she started work. The floor was covered in a messy layer of old straw and in one corner were a pile of seashells and the dried remains of a small tree.

  The serpents hunted for the bulk of their food, taking fish from the sea and meat from the land. Muthu breeders saw it as a sign of luck if a serpent stole from their herd. The grain and fruit the workers fed them were merely delicacies, not sustenance. But it looked like Nuathin preferred sea creatures.

  Shaan worked quietly, making sure she was never completely turned away, and every so often glancing nervously over her shoulder; but he did not stir. She began to sweat with the effort, scraping her rake along the sides of the wall and trying not to think about how she was going to clean the other side of the crell where he lay. Perhaps she could wait until he left to hunt.

  Her shoulders were tensed for every sound. It was very quiet. The voices and movement far below on the floor of the Dome were dim echoes. There was only the swish of her rake and the rhythmic breath of the serpent. Her shoulders ached as she pulled the dirty straw into a pile.

  Hussss. Something rustled. Shaan whipped around, her heart pounding, but Nuathin was still, his great sides sucking in and out. She waited, poised for his flight, but nothing happened. After a long moment, she turned back to her work. And then again she heard it, faint as a breeze over grass. A whisper of sound, like a breath in her ear. The hairs on her arms lifted. There was a feeling in the air, something . . . She whirled around, gripping the rake in both hands like a weapon. But there was no one in the crell but the sleeping serpent.

  Who are you? It was a whisper in her ear. She backed toward the wall.

  ‘Who is it?’ She spoke into the emptiness.

  Who are you? Are you one from before? It seems . . . familiar.

  The voice was in her head. She trembled, her arms rigid with tension and began to shuffle toward the door. Maybe she was dreaming again. She was asleep and this was a dream. Yes, that was it. She’d fallen asleep.

  I know you! A voice shouted inside her mind. She screamed, dropping the rake, and fell to her knees, darkness dancing in her vision.

  I know you!

  It was inside, taking ov
er her senses, pushing into her mind. She could feel the presence of it. Something other, something . . . but her thought went unfinished as that something took hold of her mind and dragged her into the abyss.

  Blackness. She could see nothing, feel nothing. The crell was gone, all light gone. It was as though the earth had opened and swallowed her. Panicked, Shaan sucked in air, feeling her lungs straining, burning, but unable to see. And then she felt it, hovering, watching her in the blackness. A murmuring started.

  I know you, I know you, Iknowyou, Iknowyou. The words merged together, growing louder and louder. In desperation she tried to push it away, but it kept on at her, thrumming through her mind. She pushed harder, but it hammered back, eating away at her sanity. Iknowyou Iknowyou. Desperately, she pushed it away with all her will and a glimmer of light came. She strained toward it. It was like wading through a thick sea.

  I KNOW YOU! The voice screamed, but it was losing its grip, and at the last, as she reached up toward the light, a great head reared at her through the black. A serpent’s head. It hissed, surrounded by a nimbus of flame, and the hiss became a tremulous voice that said: Is he here then? Is he back? Then it was gone and she was back in the crell and someone was shaking her.

  ‘Stop,’ she croaked. ‘Stop.’

  A man was staring down at her. Her vision cleared and she saw blond hair and frowning blue eyes. Sept Leader Balkis was bending over her, his hands gripping her shoulders. She gasped as he yanked her to her feet and a wave of dizziness made her stagger.

  Cursing, he held her up. ‘What is the matter with you?’

  ‘Sorry, Sept Leader.’ Shaan tried to stand, pulling out of his grasp. Why did it have to be him, she thought desperately.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Shaan isn’t it?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s going on here? Did the serpent do something? Has he . . .’

  ‘No!’ She said, then winced as pain arced through her skull.

  ‘Why were you screaming?’

  Had she been? She shook her head. ‘I . . . I tripped over.’