‘You’re a blind traitor, Kelga, and the anointing that lets you find Chaenbalu has been destroyed. You can never return to the village.’
Kelga cackled, her warped voice rising. ‘I never intended to return. I’ve been waiting for that infant my whole life, and I shall take him from this backwater village for ever.’ She crept closer to Lana, her knife still drawn, the weapon poised to strike.
Lana retreated, hastening towards the babe at the edge of the grove. Whatever Kelga’s plans, she wanted to preserve the baby’s life, and she had not denied being a Daughter of Keos. Lana’s best chance was to kill the child now. She moved with purpose.
If I kill it, she thought, her plans will be thwarted and I can run for Chaenbalu. It was the safest path. Lana had no desire to fight the old woman. Kelga was blinded but Lana could only use one arm, and she had no idea what tricks the old crone might have at her disposal.
Kelga sensed Lana’s intention and tried to intercept her, but Lana got there first. She struck hard and sure with her stiletto.
It met nothing but air and earth. The babe had disappeared.
Lana turned, searching for it, but there was no sign of the infant.
A moment later, Kelga was on her, screaming. The hag slashed, her curved knife swinging wide as Lana leaned back to dodge the blade. At the same time, Kelga’s empty hand struck Lana’s chest, sending her backward into the blackthorn copse. Dozens of the barbed black needles punctured her thighs, back and arms, their ridged, two-inch-long spikes holding her firm. Lana struggled against the briars and felt more sharp thorns embed themselves deep in her body. She screamed – a wail of fear, frustration and pain, which became a frothy cough as the thorns constricted her chest.
Kelga hobbled forward, a silhouette in the moonlight, until her outstretched palm touched the blackthorn. Her milky eyes stared up at the dark sky and she bent an ear towards Lana. Kelga cackled, then bent down to retrieve the infant that was not there.
‘What did you do with it?’ Kelga barked. Her head spun about as though she were trying to locate the infant with some sixth sense. ‘Where is the Vessel!’ she screamed.
Lana’s laugh came out as more coughing. She spat at the woman instead, tasting blood. ‘Keos took him,’ she snarled. ‘I hope he takes you, too.’
‘There are worse ways to die than blood loss and blackthorns,’ Kelga growled, reaching out with her curved knife until it prodded Lana’s chest. ‘Where is the child?’ she demanded, the knife carving into Lana’s flesh until she gave a bloody scream.
A stout staff swung from the darkness, smashing Kelga across the back and driving the witwoman to her knees. The old woman howled and spun, throwing her arm in the air and pointing her bony fingers at her unseen attacker.
‘Bàsaich!’ she screamed from on her knees, her fingers curling towards the stranger.
The staff flared silver then faded to a dull glow in the darkness. Lana blinked, trying to make out her saviour, and was shocked to see the village priest step into the moonlit clearing.
‘Sodar?’ Lana scarely believed her eyes, and still less when she saw the sheepskin bundle clutched in the old man’s arms. ‘What … what are you doing?’
The priest advanced on Kelga, his staff ready, and the blind woman shrank back across the clover-filled clearing. The moment Sodar came within striking distance, Kelga threw her knife at the priest’s belly. He knocked the blade aside with a flick of his quarterstaff then brought the solid oak down on the woman’s head. Kelga collapsed beneath the blow and Sodar lifted the staff once more, this time taking it high overhead, ready to smash the old woman’s skull. But she didn’t move again. Sodar hesitated, then he lowered the wooden weapon and turned back to Lana. Inside the sheepskin blanket, the cursed babe cooed.
‘Quickly,‘ Lana panted, tasting blood. ‘You must help me destroy the Son of Keos and warn the Academy. Daughters of Keos have infiltrated the Wit Circle.’
The priest didn’t move. Instead, he stared at Lana with hard eyes and a frown. ‘You’re in no position to make demands, Lana banTosan.’ He spared a glance at the unconscious old woman. ‘You said Kelga has lost the ability to return to Chaenbalu.’ Lana nodded then coughed, bright blood flecking her lips. ‘She could return, though,’ Sodar continued, ‘if she had a guide.’
Lana gasped as an acute pressure seized her chest. ‘Who would bring her back? She wanted to save the Son of Keos.’
‘And that is why I am letting her live.’ The priest returned his gaze to Lana. ‘But you. You would have killed the boy as quickly as you killed Aegen.’ Sodar shook his head, his grey-white beard caressing the infant’s face. ‘If Kelga cannot return to the village, she is no threat. With Odar’s blessing, she may even find her way out of the Brake before the beasts consume her. You’re a different matter, though, for if I let you live, you would condemn us both.’
Lana blinked as her vision began to fuzz and blood trickled from her mouth. Her body felt distant from her, and she had trouble holding onto her thoughts.
‘I had feared I would have to kill you,’ Sodar continued, ‘but it seems Kelga has taken care of that for me.’
The priest’s cool grey eyes watched as the world grew colder around Lana, and she realised she would die here, without ever seeing her husband or daughter again. Her body slumped backwards, and this time even the bite of the blackthorn couldn’t rouse her.
Part One
On the thirty-first day of Thirdmonth, one hundred years after the death of Myahlai the Deceiver, the Gods and their children came together to celebrate the day that evil was cast out of Luquatra. And in the days preceding this one-hundredth anniversary, Keos saw the joy of their followers and proposed that he, Lumea and Odar join their worshippers in celebration.
Yet Odar, the eldest and wisest of the Gods, objected, deeming that mingling with the merrymaking of their children was ill-thought. Instead, Odar suggested the Gods exchange gifts on the next holy day – and so came about the first great Regaleus.
Now it was two days before the appointed day when Keos, deep in thought, approached his elder brother. Odar, sensing his brother’s distress, asked what vexed him.
And Keos answered, ‘It is the gift for our sister. What canst thou give a Goddess, who holds the sun in the palm of her hand? All things seek her pleasure, and she wants for nothing; our sister’s joy is complete.’
And Odar answered, ‘Does not a mother rejoice in the gifts of her children? Let us then gift unto Lumea that which she and her worshippers shall rejoice in sharing.’