Awakening Read online

  ‘Tripped?’ Balkis raised one eyebrow.

  ‘Yes and I hit my head. I felt sick. I . . .’ She gasped as another blinding pain speared her and nausea welled in her stomach. Her legs bowed and Balkis had to grip her arm again.

  ‘I’m not well,’ she whispered pressing a hand to her forehead.

  He let out an annoyed breath. ‘Then you should not be working.’ His eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘You handed me the sword, didn’t you?’ His gaze roved over her face, but she couldn’t read his expression.

  ‘Umm . . .’ Shaan’s insides clenched and she looked past him at the serpent, her breath freezing in her chest. ‘He’s awake,’ she whispered.

  ‘What?’ Balkis spun around, pushing her away. The world tilted and she grabbed the back of his shirt to keep upright. But he barely noticed as the sliding hiss of old hide scraping against stone sounded and Nuathin shifted, lifting his enormous head from the floor.

  The serpent’s gaze switched back and forth between Shaan and the sept leader, as if deciding who to strike at first. He blew out loudly and Shaan felt the heat from his breath on her cheeks.

  ‘Get out,’ Balkis said softly without looking at her.

  Shaan couldn’t move. Nuathin’s eyes were mesmerising. She could suddenly feel every drop of blood in her body rushing through her veins. It had been him in the darkness, his head hissing at her.

  ‘Go!’ Balkis shoved her toward the door with such force she almost tripped over the rake at her feet. Hands trembling, she picked it up and fled. She heard Balkis behind her, speaking in soft tones, but she didn’t turn to look. Her head was pounding, the taste of bile rising in her throat. Dropping the rake, she ran unsteadily down the corridor, her hand over her mouth.

  Other workers gave her curious looks as she flew past them. As she reached the second level her stomach gave a great heave and desperately she dashed through the closest open doorway and was violently ill in a stack of straw. Her head spinning, she retched until it felt she had no insides left then leaned back against the wall. What had happened? How had Nuathin spoken to her? And why? Her eyes watering, she looked down at the mess she had made. She pitied the worker who would have to clean it up, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t stay here.

  Feeling dazed, she peered back out into the passageway. It was empty. Thankful, she walked the rest of the way down and slipped out into the bright hot sunshine, taking in a great lungful of fresh air. Her mouth tasted foul and she looked around, disorientated. Everything seemed too bright.

  A few workers were coming up the hill, but more were heading down it. Three young riders strode by laughing and talking. Each swung a leather helmet and their hair was matted with sweat. A low screech sounded and she looked up to see an iridescent green and blue serpent, with a rider astride it, come gliding toward the platform at the top of the Dome. One of the riders raised his helmet in salute.

  Shaan suddenly realised just how high the sun was. Riders were returning. She should be in the meals pavilion to serve them! How long had she been lying on that floor before Balkis found her? With a groan she made for a small sidetrack through the trees at an unsteady run. Her head throbbed and her thoughts were full of a serpent’s head rearing up through a wreath of black mist.

  Is he here then? Is he back? The words whispered over and over in her head sending chill bumps along her skin as she ran unsteadily down the hill.

  Morfessa jumped as the garden gate banged. He’d been dozing again. He rubbed his eyes, scratching his chin through his cropped grey beard, and levered himself out of his armchair. He pushed open the set of long, shuttered doors that led from his workroom to the garden and stood, hands on hips, at the top of the steps surveying the courtyard and flowerbed. His mouth was dry and the usual dull ache echoed in his skull.

  He frowned at the grass, brown and patchy in places, and the plants drooping to the ground. He must talk to the gardeners, there was maintenance needed to fix those plants before the season of rain or they’d be washed away.

  He shifted and glass crunched under his foot. Glancing down he pushed the broken wine goblet away with the toe of his sandal. Movement across the garden caught his eye and he squinted against the sun as Prin, his new assistant, come around the side of the house, moving gracefully despite the heat. Tall with an angular face, Prin carried himself with a certain arrogance that irritated.

  Morfessa called out as he approached. ‘Did you get the ferris leaves?’

  ‘No.’ Prin halted at the bottom of the steps. ‘They didn’t have any. I bought these instead, they’ll do the same.’ He handed Morfessa a small cloth bag.

  ‘Longsten root.’ Morfessa looked at him in surprise, sniffing the sour green smell. ‘I’d forgotten about these. Not many use this anymore. Old fashioned they say, don’t stock it.’ He looked back at the young man appraisingly. ‘Good work.’

  Prin only nodded, but Morfessa saw what he thought was a pleased look in his eyes. Strange colour they were, and there was often a knowing look in them that made him seem much older. At times that look made Morfessa uneasy.

  ‘Any missive from the palace?’ he asked, but Prin didn’t answer. His eye had fallen on the broken glass. Morfessa licked his dry lips and noticed how foul the taste in his mouth was.

  ‘No, but you have a meeting with the Guardian. You should be there now. Did you forget?’ Prin’s strange eyes watched him from underneath thick black hair.

  For a moment Morfessa thought he was mocking him. ‘No.’ His temper rose. ‘I don’t need to be there for all of it.’ He turned and went into his workroom. Damn it! He had forgotten. He wiped his mouth with an unsteady hand and tried not to see the empty wine jug on the floor. He went to his desk and began shuffling papers. He picked up a page of notes with unintelligible scrawl on it and crumpled it savagely.

  ‘Would you like me to make a paste from the longsten?’ Prin had followed him into the house and was watching him.

  ‘What? Oh, yes.’ Morfessa handed him the bag. ‘And don’t use too much oil,’ he said more sharply than he should.

  ‘Of course.’ A smile rose briefly on Prin’s face as he turned toward the healing rooms.

  Morfessa frowned. Why did he think Prin had been mocking him? He often had that niggling thought. Those eyes were watchful, they saw too much. Old eyes in a young face. He didn’t know Prin’s age or much about him at all, come to think of it. Did he even need him? Did he?

  The Advisor’s hands stilled and he stared unseeing at the empty doorway. He didn’t know where Prin was from. He had hired him quickly, too quickly. When had he become so lax in his observations and assessments of people? He stared at the empty air, frowning; but then as he thought on it, it began to seem silly, the ravings of a tired old man. He gave himself a mental shake. What did it matter? Of course he needed an assistant. Of course. He didn’t know how he’d managed without one before Prin arrived and offered his services. Morfessa stopped, his hand hovering above a stack of papers. Had Prin suggested it to him or had it been his idea? He couldn’t remember. But then he shrugged. What did it matter, he had a meeting to get to. Without further thought, Morfessa straightened his rumpled shirt and strode from the house, picking up a light robe as he left to protect himself from the sun. He had to hurry, he was already late.

  4

  Tallis crouched behind the rocks next to Jared and waited. The other hunters were ranged out either side of them along the edge of the rocky outcrop. It was past midday and the group had been crouching without moving for the last half hour, waiting for a herd of sand goat to move out into the open.

  Sweat darkened his leather vest and sand settled in every crease and crevice. The sun was white hot on his bare head and he regretted leaving his haldar back at the caves. He flexed his thigh muscles, trying to keep the blood flowing.

  Jared leaned over and nudged him. ‘I’m going to enjoy soaking in the hot springs when we get home tonight. My back is killing me and I’ll wager you two sand goats that Irissa manages to
sit next to you.’ His dark face stretched into a smile and he shifted a little, his tunic creaking.

  Tallis grunted and tried to smile back but his heart wasn’t in it. The dark fear from the morning still clung to him like spider web.

  ‘No. Not tonight,’ he said.

  ‘Why not?’ Jared nudged him again. ‘I’ve heard her talking about you.’

  ‘She’s your sister Jared.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Look, I’m not . . .’

  ‘Silence!’ Haldane hissed. Tallis’s father’s voice carried to them from three men away. ‘We’ll be lucky to get one goat between us if you two keep chattering like old sand sisters.’

  The rest of the hunting party smothered laughs and Jared grinned at them, enjoying the insult. Another time Tallis would have joined him, but today he only pressed his lips together and remained silent, feeling the dark fear like a stone in his gut.

  Watching his father turn to speak quietly to his mother, Mailun, Tallis wished the goats would just hurry up and come out so he could get the hunting over with. He glanced at their clan leader, Karnit, who had elected to accompany the hunt. The old man’s eyes were narrowed and watchful as he stared out at the desert. His presence made Tallis uneasy. Karnit had never liked him. He had been leader for twenty-seven years and held strongly to clan purity. He believed in desert clans heart-mating only with other desert clans, and Tallis’s fine features, his black hair and lighter brown skin were a constant reminder of all Karnit opposed. Whenever their leader joined the hunt it made Tallis doubly aware of his differences.

  He let his breath out slowly and tried to concentrate on looking for the game instead of the hollow feeling in his gut. An ant worked its way under his trousers and bit him on the calf. He slapped his leg, and rubbed the stinging area through the fabric.

  There was still no sign of any game. Not even a lizard or sand rat was moving out there. It was strange; they should have seen something by now. A heavy silence had fallen over everything as though the earth itself was waiting. Even the winds were absent. Uneasy, he looked again at his father. Surely he would call off the hunt soon?

  ‘Look there!’ Mergon, one of the older hunters, suddenly called out and pointed to the sky.

  Far off near the horizon two black specks had appeared. Murmurs broke out and everyone started moving, flexing the blood back through their stiff muscles and gripping their weapons.

  ‘Be still!’ Haldane’s voice rang out and he held out a hand, his eyes on the sky.

  Tallis’s breath shortened. They were too big to be birds.

  ‘What are they?’ Jared whispered.

  Tallis’s stomach clenched and a shiver of apprehension ghosted over his skin. A high-pitched shriek came that set his teeth on edge.

  ‘Serpents,’ he whispered.

  ‘Serpents!’ Karnit echoed his whisper with a shout and stood. Around him the rest of the party slowly came to their feet and moved out from behind the rocks, staring up at the sky.

  A cold finger of fear tapped the base of Tallis’s spine. Serpents were rarely seen in the clan lands. They were regarded with distrust and it was against all clan laws to traffic with them. Tallis himself had seen a serpent only once. Four years ago he had been out with Jared, looking for shrike eggs, when one had passed over him, headed for the west. He remembered it clearly; the small speckled eggs warm in his hand as he stared up at the purple shadowed beast winging overhead. It had stirred a feeling of fear that had reached right to his bones and a rush of blood that had made his heart pound. When it had gone he’d looked down to see he’d crushed the eggs in his fist. He could still smell the musk-oiled air tainting his nostrils.

  ‘They’re coming closer.’ Jared put a hand on his arm. Around them the other hunters shifted uneasily. Tallis felt the wrongness from the morning come rolling back and with a sense of despair he suddenly knew what it meant. He could see the beasts clearly now: their long necks and huge heads, their hides swallowing the light, glinting black in the sun as they shrieked and angled toward them.

  ‘What are they doing?’ Ferrin murmured.

  Fear her claws sunk in him. ‘They’re going to attack,’ Tallis said, gripping Jared’s arm to pull him back, but the beasts were already dropping.

  ‘To me!’ Haldane commanded. ‘Stand together, raise your spears. Brace them!’

  They pressed themselves together in a tight bunch, spears raised to form a spiked canopy over their heads.

  ‘Steady . . .’ Haldane’s voice came again.

  The brightness of the sun seemed to dim and Tallis gripped his spear as the enormous creatures swooped down upon them and blocked out the sky. The wind from their wings knocked at the spears and their long bodies were like black snakes, writhing and twisting, as they arched and hissed at the hunters; their teeth were rows of swords in their enormous jaws and all about was the rasp and clash of their talon-spiked tails.

  Beside him Jared’s sister, Irissa, screamed and thrust with her spear. Tallis shouted with the others, jabbing his spear upwards as the serpents snapped at them. Heat and sand swirled and the smell of ancient dust and oil assailed them.

  The beasts circled lazily. They were large enough for one to plow through them. Why did they toy with them? Anger grew and his body became hot with fury as he stabbed his spear at them, always missing. Then one came down closer. It reached out a taloned claw and swiped. His mother screamed as Haldane was plucked from the group, his upper thigh and abdomen pierced by a razored talon. He was dragged out and away, blood trailing across the sand.

  For a moment, Tallis watched in horror and then he was consumed by rage. With a roar he leaped out at the beasts, aiming his spear. The world dropped away and he saw nothing but the creature and its great glinting eye. He directed his spear at it and strange words came to his lips. The sound of them was like the scraping of steel on stone, the hiss of water on fire and he spoke them in a voice that was barely his own. Both serpents reeled back, dropping Haldane to the ground. They hovered for a moment, hissing, their wings beating the sand into a storm, then with a shudder that rippled their bodies, they arched back and away and, with a shriek, were gone, winging away to the north.

  The hunters stood stunned and silent staring at Tallis, their spears fallen. Mailun ran forward with a sob to kneel by Haldane. Tallis blinked, the world coming back to him, and stared about disorientated. He looked over at his father to see him give a last sigh before his eyes became blank, staring back at him across the reddening sand. A roaring sound started in his ears, his vision blurred and the earth tilted away beneath him as he fell to the ground.

  5

  The golden light of dusk was starting to settle over the city by the time Shaan left the yards. After the mid-meal, the supervisor had put her to work with some others cleaning out the riders’ barracks. It had been hot and dusty work. Several times dizziness had overtaken her and she had had to hold tight to the frame of a bunk to stop falling.

  Now her muscles and head ached and her hands were red and chafed from scrubbing. She stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders as she took slow steps along the road that led from the yards back into the city. The extra coin she’d earned for the day jingled in her pocket and other workers hustled past her, eager to get home before dark.

  Below, the flat roofs and winding streets were dressed in golden light and the sea was a dark shifting expanse, running in small waves up to the rocks of the land, frothing in a thin white line against the red earth. Far out on the horizon the sun was a bright ball of light, being swallowed by the sea. As it dropped, the long clouds were painted pink and in the hills above the city the domes and windows of the Guardian’s palace caught the light, glinting like fire.

  Shaan squinted and dropped her eyes, following the road down the steep hill and into the traders’ quarter. A strong smell of fried onions wafted through the crowd and, too tired to walk further, she hitched a ride with a kaf seller. Settling into the back of his cart between the fragrant bags, she
dangled her legs off the back as the muthu pulled it along through the city and down to the waterfront.

  By the time they reached the busy seafarers’ quarter, night was starting to settle. The air was warm and humid and the street lamps were lit, the halos of yellow light surrounded by insects. Inns were open for business and sailors were starting to come up from the ships. Shaan’s heart sank. There was quite a crowd of them, which meant business at the Red Pepino would be booming and Torg would want her to serve in the bar. Cursing her luck she left the kaf seller when he stopped at a small inn. Veering up and away from the sea, she quickened her pace, hoping at least some of the sailors would choose one of the other whorehouses.

  But by the time she trudged wearily through the back gates, the Red Pepino was already full of chatter. Opening the kitchen door she saw Torg, his broad face shining with sweat, carving a large haunch of meat. The table was cluttered with loaves of bread and slabs of salty white cheese and a pot of gravy simmered on the stove.

  ‘Aah, my serving wench!’ He smiled widely, his earring glinting in the lamplight. ‘About time your skinny bones came through that door. Where you been, flirting with sept leaders?’

  A vivid image of Balkis’s blue eyes staring down at her came into her mind. ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘I was working.’

  The smell of the gravy made her hungry and nauseous at the same time. She left the door open to let some cooler air in, and sat heavily down at the table.

  Torg glanced at her. ‘You look worse than a wet street cat. Here,’ he tossed a thick slice of meat at her, ‘get some bread and cheese as well, you’re too skinny.’

  Sighing, Shaan reached for a loaf of bread and a knife. ‘Do you want me behind the bar or serving tables?’ She slowly sawed a couple of uneven slices off the loaf.

  Torg stopped what he was doing and watched her as she smeared butter on the bread with an unsteady hand. He was silent for such a stretch that she stopped what she was doing and looked up. ‘What?’