The Children of the Wind (Seven Citadels) Read online

  SEVEN CITADELS

  PART TWO

  THE CHILDREN OF THE WIND

  Seven Citadels novels by Geraldine Harris

  Prince of the Godborn

  The Dead Kingdom

  The Seventh Gate

  SEVEN CITADELS

  PART TWO

  THE CHILDREN OF THE WIND

  GERALDINE HARRIS

  SPEAKING VOLUMES, LLC

  NAPLES, FLORIDA

  2011

  SEVEN CITADELS

  THE CHILDREN OF THE WIND

  Copyright © 2011 by GERALDINE HARRIS

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

  ISBN 978-1-61232-045-8

  Table of Contents

  THE STORY SO FAR

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  THE STORY SO FAR

  The story of the Seven Citadels began in the book Prince of the Godborn. In the east of Zindar lies the great Galkian Empire, ruled from the golden city of Galkis. Here Zeldin, the Gentle God, and his human consort, the Lady Imarko, are worshipped. Galkis is under constant attack from the barbarian kingdoms along her borders and is weakened by intrigues and strife amongst the ruling family; the Godborn.

  A fresh alliance of powerful enemies and a murder within the royal family brings a new crisis. The wise High Priest Izeldon, sees an ancient prophecy about an imprisoned Saviour as the only hope for Galkis. He asks the Emperor's third, and favourite, son, the seventeen year old Prince Kerish-lo-Taan, to go out into Zindar to search for the Saviour of Galkis. Kerish has no experience of the world outside the Galkian court and has never been trained to use the hereditary powers of the Godborn but he accepts the quest eagerly.

  Izeldon reveals that the only way to free the Saviour is to win the seven keys to the gates of his prison, but each key is guarded by an immortal sorcerer. The first of these seven sorcerers is Elmandis, the tyrant of Ellerinnon, but no-one in Galkis knows for certain where the other six can be found. The Emperor insists that Kerish share his quest with his sensible half-brother, Lord Forollkin and the two young men set out together.

  On the sea voyage to Ellerinnon, Kerish's overconfidence leads to their ship being attacked by the cruel Brigands of Fangmere and Forollkin is wounded. When they arrive at Tir-Rinnon; the Citadel of Elmandis, Kerish has to swallow his pride and beg the Sorcerer to heal his brother. Elmandis proves to be a philosopher-king, ruling over a people dedicated to bringing peace and healing to Zindar. He looks on Kerish's arrival as a disaster, because any sorcerer who gives up his key loses his immortality. Kerish has to face a terrifying ordeal and use all his powers of argument to persuade Elmandis to surrender the first key.

  The second sorcerer is Ellandellore; the younger brother of Elmandis, whose domain is Cheransee, the Isle of Illusions. Ellandellore is a crazed child who cannot be persuaded by reason to give up the key that has trapped him in eternal childhood. Kerish goes alone to Cheransee and plays a dangerous game with Ellandellore to trick him out of his key. As Kerish escapes from the island the angry sorcerer raises a storm and the prince is only saved from drowning by the power of Elmandis. Now that they have both lost their immortality, Elmandis hopes to help his brother to grow up at last. He tells the Galkians to seek the third sorcerer in the Ultimate Mountains, far to the north, and sends them on their way with a mysterious travelling companion; the ugly and insolent Gidjabolgo.

  At the port of Pin-Fran, the prince and his companions leave their Galkian ship and buy a passage north on the boat of the Merchant-Hunter Ibrogdiss. Kerish, Forollkin and Gidjabolgo face a dangerous journey through the grim marshes of Lan-Pin-Fria towards the Ultimate Mountains and the citadel of the third sorcerer. The story is now continued in The Children of the Wind.

  Chapter 1

  The Book of the Emperors: Warnings

  And the makers of dreams are blessed, when their songs are woven with the thread of life, and the web is strengthened. And the makers of dreams are cursed, if their songs unravel the thread of life and the web is weakened.

  The Frian marshes knew only a wet and a dry season. For three months of the year it rained. The land shuddered, the four great rivers and their tributaries flooded and fierce brown waters gushed into the settlements. The mud dwellings of the poor were swept away in their thousands and those who had found no shelter on higher ground were swept away with their homes. The same waters roared under the houses of the rich on their strong stilts, but in a bad year even these would fall and whole villages drown.

  Those who survived the flood were immured in their houses until the rains stopped and slowly the waters began to recede. The streets were left deep in mud and many died from diseases engendered in the river slime by the increasing heat. For five months the rivers were deep enough to be navigable and merchants sailed north in search of gauza and or-gar-gee skins, gir fruit and marsh cats. The poor built new huts from mud and reeds, gathered yulgor roots, and set traps for the birds and fish they were forbidden to shoot or spear. Then, in the rising heat, the smaller rivers vanished, the land was parched and men died of drought, until the rains came again to bring a quicker death to the old and the feeble, and life to the marshes.

  In the month of Y-kor, when the rivers were swollen, the Green Hunter sailed north from Lan-Pin-Fria, bound for Lokrim. The current was against her, and often there was not enough wind to fill her sail. Then the crew of serfs was forced to row, while Ibrogdiss the Merchant Hunter paced the deck, beseeching his gods to let him reach the yalg groves before the best of the gauza had gone.

  On this trip, however, he was often forced to delay to accommodate the whims of his passengers.

  Ibrogdiss did not complain, the Galkian lords were paying well; if they wanted to squander their gold on marsh weeds and birds they could have bought for the price of a gir fruit in any market, that was their affair. Everyone knew that the Emperor of Galkis was mad; and Ibrogdiss was pleasantly confirmed in his suspicion that all the Galkians shared his malady.

  On the seventh morning of the voyage it was not for the sake of her passengers that the Green Hunter remained moored in mid-river well after dawn. Ibrogdiss, his green hair loose on his shoulders and his face smeared with clay, tossed bitter herbs into a brazier and muttered an invocation to Log-ol-ben, Spirit of the Floodwaters. The crew crouched in a circle wailing prayers of appeasement. Hidden beneath his shabby cloak, the Galkians' servant slept on in the shadowy corner of the deck that he had made his own, but the noise disturbed his masters.

  The flap of their tent was thrown open and a tall young man emerged, still fastening his tunic and irritably tossing back his long brown hair. He strode across the deck to Ibrogdiss.

  “What in Zeldin's name is all this racket?” demanded Forollkin.

  "I have had evil dreams," whispered Ibrogdiss dramatically, "and it is a day of evil omen. A godjiic settled on the mast at sunrise, a leetor flew eastwards across our bows and a ko-lunga lies dead on the bank there without trace of a wound."

  The Merchant Hunter fanned acrid smoke at the young Galkian.

  "I will purify you, Lord Forollkin, and perhaps if you throw some jewel overboard and stay in your tent until nightfall the gods will not be too angry."

  "But I will," snapped Forollkin. "If I stay in that tent a moment longer I shall suffocate."

 
"The omens," muttered Ibrogdiss, "I must make the Twelve Propitiations."

  "You are welcome to spend all morning propitiating a heap of feathers,” said Forollkin. "We will take the boat and go out as planned. You mentioned some lilies. . ."

  "No, no, the gods are angry. If you go, the marsh will take you and then who will pay me the rest of the gold you have promised? Lord Kerish, speak to your brother!"

  Ibrogdiss appealed to the second Galkian, as the pale dark-haired young man came out of the tent. The crew of the Green Hunter wailed even louder.

  "Tell me, Ibrogdiss," answered Kerish-lo-Taan, "why are your men afraid of me?"

  "They say that you must be a spirit, Lord, they know nothing of the world and have never seen a foreigner who looked like you."

  "But you know better, Ibrogdiss. Haven't you told them that I am a man as they are?"

  "I have told them, but they are serfs and cannot understand the world as we do."

  "I see," said Kerish, noting that lbrogdiss' hands were now clutching the motley collection of amulets that always hung round his neck. "Well, we had better take the boat out before it gets really hot."

  "Lord Kerish,” wailed the Merchant Hunter, "I have told your brother, it is a day of evil omen, none of my men would go with you."

  "Ibrogdiss, we are paying . . ." began Forollkin, but Kerish interrupted, "We are protected by a great spirit. The marshes will not harm us."

  "No doubt your spirit has accepted your offerings and agreed to protect you," answered the Merchant Hunter, "but what does your spirit care for me or for my men? We have made him no offerings and we cannot speak his tongue."

  "If I ask him, our spirit will protect you all," said Kerish calmly.

  "Yes, tell them that," ordered Forollkin, "and let's be off."

  "Ask them if anyone will go with us," suggested Kerish.

  Ibrogdiss spoke in rapid Frian to his men. The wailing gradually stopped and the Merchant Hunter picked out one of his men who spoke Zindaric.

  "Dau will go with you."

  Forollkin looked doubtfully at the trembling serf. Kerish darted back into the tent. He emerged again, holding a piece from his zel set. He handed it to the startled serf and said slowly, "Carry this charm. It will protect you."

  "Strong charm?" asked the Frian.

  "Very strong," Kerish confirmed.

  Dau stuffed the miniature gold and purple feather into his loincloth and darted to the ship's rail, to lower the reed boat. Forollkin toyed with kicking Gidjabolgo awake, but decided that the trip would be more peaceful without their servant's company.

  Soon the crew of the Green Hunter were beginning the long and messy ritual of the Twelve Propitiations, while Dau paddled the reed boat along a backwater and out of sight of the ship. The mists that hovered over the rivers and pools dissolved in the mounting heat. Forollkin, who thought the Frian marshes ugly and desolate, slouched in the stern, scratching the insect bites and stings that were making him so irritable. Kerish, however, was constantly discovering fragments of beauty in the bleak landscape of mud and reeds and dank, tangled groves. There were spectacular birds; tall birds that waded in the shallows, spearing fish with their beaks; small, brilliant birds that perched in the gir trees preening and chattering; white birds that flew up from the reeds in great startled flocks; brown birds that floated lazily on the green waters amongst the dazzling marsh flowers.

  As the backwater narrowed, Dau had to hack a channel through swathes of waterweed, while his passengers ducked to avoid the spiky gir branches. Kerish was haltingly warned not to trail his hand in the water, because of the snapfish, snakes and leeches, and Forollkin took up the spare paddle.

  The backwater ended in a stagnant pool covered with a kind of water-lily that Kerish had never seen before. With a quick movement that set the frail boat rocking, he leaned over to examine them. The flame-coloured petals were sticky for the golden heart of each lily exuded a white liquid, in which numerous insects were struggling.

  "They eat insects," commented Kerish, wiping his hands on his damp blue robe.

  "Just what I'd expect in a country like this," said Forollkin glumly.

  "Flowers here eat birds," volunteered Dau. "Men too."

  Forollkin snorted with disbelief and Kerish said sternly, "My spirit tells me you lie."

  He instantly regretted it as the Frian's face contorted.

  "Forgive, Lord? I have not seen, but I have heard it, truly Lord."

  "Forgiven," answered Kerish gently, wondering what kind of punishments the man was used to enduring.

  "Now then," said Forollkin briskly, "we shall want three of these plants."

  "You take them away, Lords? To grow again?"

  "Yes," said Kerish, "in the Emperor's garden, far away in Galkis."

  Dau continued to look puzzled but he had been taught never to argue. First he tried pulling up one of the plants, but after filling the boat with apparently endless lengths of white stalk and wet leaves, a sharp tug snapped it off before the roots. Dau saw that he would have to dive for the plants and loosen their roots from the mud and Forollkin promised him a special reward for this unpleasant task. With his knife between his teeth, Dau slid from the boat, kicked up his feet and went under.

  After a minute or so the Frian broke through the green surface, gasping for breath and scraping the mud from his eyes. He held up the roots of one of the lily plants and Forollkin carefully gathered it into the boat, together with tiny silver fish, knots of water worms and a small snake. Kerish noticed the snake, wriggling an inch from Forollkin's hand, and without thinking, picked it up and tossed it back into the pond.

  Treading water, Dau hissed in amazement, "Not bite?"

  Kerish shook his head.

  "Bad watersnake. One bite and you will die."

  "Kerish, do you never think what you're doing?" demanded Forollkin.

  "My spirit protects me," said Kerish a little shakily.

  "Well give him some assistance by just sitting still," snapped Forollkin.

  Dau dived again and within a few minutes they had three intact plants piled in the boat. The Frian scrambled back into the boat and showed Forollkin the trick of getting rid of the leeches that now clung to his hands. He then horrified both the Galkians by eating the leeches he had just detached from his own skin.

  "It is not good that they have my blood," he explained cheerfully, "I take it back."

  Forollkin asked the Frian if he knew where more rare flowers might be found and Dau suggested a nearby lake.

  "Charm strong, we will go safely, yes?"

  Kerish smiled as the Frian drew the zel piece from his loincloth and kissed it.

  "How far is this lake?" asked Forollkin, vainly trying to get further away from the wet, insect-ridden plants that now filled half the boat.

  "Near, near," said Dau, and turning the boat he paddled down the backwater and into one of the channels that fed it.

  They passed under the grotesque roots of a clump of gir trees, raising clouds of insects from the rotting vegetation that choked the rivulet. Forollkin flailed at them but Kerish sat motionless, and his pale, delicate skin did not seem to attract the bloodsuckers.

  The water became very shallow. The Frian slipped out of the boat and waded, knee-deep in mud, to push it through a wall of reeds. Forollkin would have helped him but Dau begged him to stay where he was, afraid that the Galkian would overturn the light craft. Instead, Forollkin crawled forward and hacked at the reeds impeding their path.

  Soon they were in open water again and Dau climbed back on board. Forollkin sat up straight to look at the broad green lake, with its floating islands of matted vegetation. It was very quiet and there was not a bird in sight. Before either of the Galkians could comment Dau seized a paddle and propelled the boat back into the shelter of the reed thickets.

  "What in Zeldin . . .?" began Forollkin, but Dau pressed a dirty finger to his lips and nodded towards the lake. Puzzled, Kerish and Forollkin peered through the reeds. The sur
face of the green waters was occasionally broken by ripples, but otherwise the lake seemed almost unnaturally placid. Then, out of a grey sky, came a ko-lunga, a large fish-eating bird, the colour of storm clouds streaked with lightning. The ko-lunga swooped on a promising ripple and Kerish almost screamed with shock.

  A huge head rose out of the water. It had only one eye in the centre of the horned forehead, but that eye had seen the ko-lunga. The great jaws opened, displaying a double row of jagged teeth. Too late, the frightened bird launched itself into the air. The jaws closed on the trailing legs and the head sank back beneath the surface, leaving only a circle of ripples and a few bloodstained feathers.