Chapter Six

The sun, when it eventually decided to arrive, did little to warm the halls of Eserett. Druids and novices alike were reluctant to leave the comfort of their beds.
The Psilo priests rubbed their hands in glee, knowing full well how easy their task would be today. The night’s rain coupled with a dry morning would mean a simple dawn harvest.
They chased each other out to the waiting boats, eager to reach the Flats. They did not notice that one of their boats was missing for they had several that were spare.
Nothing could slow them this morning, even when they found Taerys quietly sitting on the end of the pier. The young druid had his eyes closed and his robes were sodden but his face was as peaceful as if he were wrapped up in bed with a mountain of feather pillows to call his own.
Some of the younger priests chuckled as they rowed south to the Flats. They knew that Taerys was to be sent away to Pointrell. They just wished that they too could be with naked women. Anywhere. It didn’t have to be in the corridors.
That was just showing off.

*

Crayl met her by the door to the east tower.
“Well,” he said. He looked miserable. “That went well.”
“He is very pleased with you, Crayl.” She put her arm around his waist and kissed his cheek.
“I’m really tired,” he said. “Does he ever borrow from you?”
“Not so much anymore. Don’t you feel closer to him for it?”
“I suppose so. I feel like he’s watching me all the time, if that’s what you mean.”
She nodded in understanding. “I felt his presence grow stronger each time he used my energy to heal himself. He told me it was the way the magic worked. He said if he absorbed it all, like the dragons used to do, my awareness would continue from within his.”
“Aren’t you afraid he will do that?”
She laughed. “No, that’s something he would never do.”
“How do you know?”
“Can’t you feel his mind? He only wants what is best for us. For all of our kind.”
“Yes.” Crayl pushed his hand back through his hair. He did not sound entirely convinced. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I am. Don’t you see how important this is? What Davyl is trying to achieve? It’s Hamus you should be wary of. He’s the one consorting with the dark gods.”
“The dark gods? Hamus? Oh, I don’t think so; you’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I? Surely you know about Koto. Have you not noticed how much Feymell has changed? Of course not, you’re from the west. My parents are dead because of Koto. Rounded up and executed by the priests: sacrificed to Him because their daughter practices magic.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. She had pulled her arm away and was glaring at him, her bosom heaving angrily.
“Davyl can stop them. He needs our help to do it, but you would deny him that? You would stop the one man that can save the rest of Camelson from the fate of my parents?”
“No, of course not. I just don’t understand. Last night …”
“Last night,” she said, putting a finger to his lips, “was last night. We did what needed to be done.” She looked around and took his hand in hers. “Come with me. Quietly.”

*

Davyl ran his hand over the finely planed wood of the chest. The smooth curve of the lid had been constructed according to his precise instructions and he had commissioned it from the very best of the Wild Ones.
The girl had done well to bring it here. He knew he could trust her to deal with the traders. But the Wild Ones would require a little more experience.
“You have the money here?”
Davyl smiled. “I can arrange for the bullion to be delivered to your vessel in Camstead.”
The man nodded. “Very well.”
“You will report back to me when your task is completed.”
“I will be back in a fortnight.”
Davyl sighed. “I hope to be gone from here by that time. If you can return to me in a week there will be a bonus for you.”
“Impossible. Without knowing precisely where they are I cannot guarantee that I will find them so easily.”
“I will double your fee.”
The man paused for a beat. “Double?”
Davyl nodded.
“I will see what I can do.”

*

Taerys waited until the sound of the priests’ oars slapped out of earshot before getting to his feet. He felt light-headed and steadied himself on a wooden mooring post. His warm pipe dropped through the slats and into the choppy water.
“By the goddess,” he muttered.
Although his hands and feet were cold, his inner fire had been blazing all night and he was comfortably warm. His years on the southern continent of Au’karia had not been entirely misspent.
He listened to the sound of his boots beating on the pier, enjoying how they were hushed into silence by the surf. He had been thrilled by the change of direction in the wind during the night and had watched as the heavy rain clouds were pushed back up towards Myrfing.
The sun had crested the horizon to the chorus of hundreds of birds. He had witnessed the first flocks take to their wings, the dark clouds formed by their bodies creating patterns made only more beautiful by their brevity.
He reached the end of the pier and hopped down onto the slippery rocks that had only recently been uncovered by the retreating tide and began to make his way around the island.
He had not been back for long and today he was to be forced to leave again.
Au’karia had been a land of extremes. At it’s centre was a desert, humbling in the enormity of its aridness. Taerys had trekked across one part of the red sands and had survived only because he had been accompanied by one of the mystics.
The hazards of the crossing had forged a deep friendship and the mystic had taken Taerys under his wing. They had continued together to the southernmost coast where glaciers rose miles into the sky, snow fell in blizzards so heavy that progress had been impossible at the height of the storms, and the barren rocks had been habitable by only one creature besides wizards.
Beside him the wall of Eserett rose up high into the sky. At the top of the wall there was a guard. He realised he must be close to Davyl’s chambers.
Taerys wished that the old druid had not sent him away. Still, he had learned to let wishful thinking go while thirsting in Au’karia.
“Why wish for water?” the mystic had said, the skin on his nose peeling in the harsh desert sun. “There isn’t any. Once every thirty years or so there’s the odd bit of rain. The whole place turns green, then. Rest of the time, it’s dead. No, don’t waste your time with wishing, mate. Look, I’ll show you. See here, under this rock? That’s a grub, that is. Good eating on one of them. That’s the only place you’ll find water. Them and the snakes.”
Taerys thought of the journey ahead. Pointrell was just the other side of the Moors. While moorlands held their own dangers, they at least were not short of water.
He found himself chuckling quietly and he had to sit down, resting his back against a rock worn smooth by the impact of the waves.
Presently, he heard voices.
“Well,” a young man said. “That went well.”
The young ones did not talk for long and he was glad when they left. He still remembered being a novice; how the fate of the world had seemed to sit on his shoulders.
But they had talked of Davyl as if they knew him well. And they had mentioned the dragon’s art of energy sharing.
He was intrigued in spite of himself.
Bowing to the waves, he rose to his feet and poked his head over the boulder. The two youngsters were just disappearing around the curve of the tower.
“Always keep them in your sights,” the mystic had told him once, “but don’t let them see you. Downwind, mate. Downwind and quiet.” This had been while hunting for food. In Au’karia, if your game heard you, there was no dinner.
They were nearing the section of wall where Davyl’s window looked out on the Divide when it happened. Taerys had ducked his head for a moment, aware that the novices were beginning to look around.
He peaked over the rocks again, thinking that if the youths were just after some time alone he would slip quietly away, but they had gone.
He frowned. Their wet footprints stopped dead on the dry rocks.
It was clear that they were using magic far beyond their years. Taerys began to scry, determined to find them again. They were bound to be up to no good.