Free Unholy War by David Hair Page B

trick.’
    Cym smiled at that.
    ‘Girl, she is our Seeress. She has the power of an Ascendant, and Sabele still dwells inside her, she who was present when Corineus died.’
    That wiped the smile from her face.
No wonder the little bitch thinks she owns the world.
‘Why do you resist her?’ she asked Zaqri snarkily. ‘Shouldn’t you be honoured that she wants to rukk you?’
    ‘I still grieve for my wife,’ he replied flatly. ‘I loved her, whatever you think of
animals
like us.’ He pointed southwards across the sea. ‘That way.’
    She willed the carpet to turn and it did so. It was taxing, and not as efficient as a windskiff, being neither aerodynamic nor assisted by sails, but she set her jaw and powered on, aware that she was burning through energy fast. The wind whipped at her face and made a banner of her hair, but the worst of the headwind was deflected by unseen shields. She glanced over her shoulder to see a stream of gulls following, shrieking angrily. She wondered which was Huriya.
Probably the smallest, with the best plumage
…
    ‘Are all Dokken beast-magi?’ she wondered.
    Zaqri’s eyes narrowed at her tone. ‘We call ourselves Brethren, or Kindred. And no, we have a mix of skills, but we tend to clan together according to our major affinities. My pack are, as you can see, mostly animagi. You can judge us for our rough manner if you must, but remember that we must live on the fringes because the most powerful beings on Urte have pledged our annihilation.’
    ‘I’m Rimoni – they pledged ours too,’ she retorted, though she couldn’t deny his words had struck a chord in her. ‘They destroyed our cities and turned us into wandering beggars. If you’re really one of us you’ll know that.’
    ‘I know my heritage, girl. I was born on the Metian border and Rimoni was my first tongue. But my father was Brethren, and he took me into the pack. Our forebears were at the Ascension of Corineus. The Blessed Three Hundred ascended, but they didn’t, and for that crime they named us apostates.’ He glanced at the nearest gull, a dark-hued bird with red eyes.
Hessaz
, Cym guessed. ‘The Brethren found Ahmedhassa before even the Ordo Costruo.’
    Cym noted that he said ‘Ahmedhassa’ – the local word for the eastern continent, not the Yurosian ‘Antiopia’. ‘Did most of you come here?’
    ‘Those who could. It took morphic-gnosis, animagery, Air-gnosis or Water-gnosis. Most of those who couldn’t use those affinities stayed in Yuros. The Ordo Costruo were no friends to us, nor us to them: we preyed on them to gain more souls and awaken the gnosis in our children. It was war.’
    Cym imagined untaught Dokken against Arcanum-trained magi. ‘You lost.’
    ‘We lost. We had to go into hiding, even here in Ahmedhassa. The locals believed us to be Afreet – the demons of their legends. We could not live or train openly, so we could master only the simplest gnosis: elemental magic and body-magic. Only a rare few, like Sabele, can do more.’
    His words echoed the plight of her own people too closely. She willed away her empathy. ‘So you really were Rimoni.’
    ‘My mother was. My father was Brician … and Brethren. He’s long dead. I am older than I look.’
    She studied him, his timeless eyes and weathered, ruggedly handsome face. He had the commanding manner of someone who knew himself, had come to terms with what he was, but there was a haunted aspect to his eyes that suggested it had been a long battle. ‘How many people have you killed?’
    He looked at her steadily. ‘I don’t know. I lost count long ago.’
    How revolting
, she thought, surprised she had felt any pity for him. That angered her. ‘I guess being a packleader justifies everything,’ she jeered. ‘You killed my mother. Does that make you as strong as she was now?’
    His face was grave but unrepentant. ‘It does: purer blood strengthens our own gnosis. I gained her strength, though not her skill.’
    ‘Quite a