The Shepherd Girl's Necklace (The Windhaven Chronicles) Read online

  THE SHEPHERD GIRL'S NECKLACE

  by Watson Davis

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE SHEPHERD GIRL'S NECKLACE

  First edition. September 27, 2017.

  Copyright © 2017 Watson Davis.

  Written by Watson Davis.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Liars and Cheaters

  The Herd

  Who Are You

  A Big Girl Now

  Seeing The Light

  Ofo

  The Bad Boy

  Hunters and Hunted

  Basaliyasta

  Prisoners

  Out with the Wash

  Valor And Duty

  The Beggar's Gate

  Mendenen

  Destination

  A Safe Place

  Arenghel

  Sacrifical Lamb

  Oasis

  Author's Notes

  The Windhaven Chronicles:

  Diaries of a Space Marine:

  To my lovely wife, whom I adore.

  Prologue

  A DRUM POUNDED A STEADY rhythm, keeping the beat for the rasp of the pokbo horn and the angelic chords of the harp.

  Ka-bes Pyaj rocked back and forth to the music at a table in the corner of a crowded pub. The tips of her fingers touched the golden embroidery on her graduation robes, caressing the white and blue stripes symbolizing her strengths in the magics of both air and water.

  Around her people danced and cheered, but she reveled in her sense of peace, a weight lifted from her shoulders, a burden she hadn’t realized she was carrying until it no longer existed.

  “Ka-bes!” Ja'ast shouted, grabbing her arm, his trademark smirk on his dangerously handsome face. A splotch of beer stained his graduation robes, robes with the brown stripe of earth magic. He dragged her from her stool. “Join the dance!”

  She twisted out of his grasp, shaking her head. “No, you go ahead.”

  “Aw, come on.” He spread his hands, bending toward her, bouncing with the beat of the music. “What’s wrong now? We made it. We passed.”

  “Not now.” She slid back into her seat, a wan smile on her lips. “Later.”

  He rolled his eyes and eased back into the mass of dancing and shouting graduates, her classmates and friends for the past five years. Ka-bes lifted her crystal goblet of red wine and swirled it, studying the crimson streaks left along the inside of the glass.

  “Not dancing?” Lunan Pyaj, her elder brother, slipped into the seat next to hers, his dour face serious as always, wearing the simple robes of a priest without the embroidery proclaiming his talents or his rank.

  “Thank you for coming,” Ka-bes said, patting his thick forearm. “I wish Mom and Dad could have seen the ceremony, seen me accepting my degrees.”

  Lunan pulled away and crossed his arms over his chest. “They didn’t come to my graduation either. Sailing from Tuth-yoo to Basaliyasta is a long way, and would drag them from their nets for too long. The fish will not catch themselves.”

  “True.” She chuckled and bobbed her head. “Always more fish to sell.”

  “You should enjoy yourself with your boyfriend.” He nodded toward Ja’ast, who pranced on the dance floor holding two frothy mugs of beer over his head, his lean body twisting and weaving with the sinuous grace of a snake between three newly minted priestesses. “Enjoy this time while you can. Hold the memory in your heart and revel in it later.”

  “I will.” Ka-bes put her arm around her brother’s waist, her head on his shoulder, and hugged him. She peered up at him, her heart filled with pride and love, but his lips were twisted with thought and his eyes focused on something far away. “Is your work with Bishop Diyune so hard?”

  He shrugged and grunted, but he didn’t look her way. “I think I’ve figured out a way to get a promotion.”

  “Can you transfer to somewhere less stressful? Back home to Tuth-yoo? Mom and dad would love to have you around.”

  He pursed his lips, and glowered at her, studying her as though unable to decipher her words. An expression Ka-bes didn’t understand passed over his face like a shadow and he opened his mouth to speak. The waitress slammed a shot-glass of nyok-no before him, the potent liquor sloshing over the sides onto the tabletop, and then she stomped away.

  “Always seal a deal with a shot of nyok-no,” Lunan said. He picked the glass up and drained it. “Any idea where you’ll be stationed?”

  “I’m hoping for Uyinstrom,” Ka-bes said, then pursed her lips, “but probably somewhere small and out-of-the way first, like Ofo.”

  “I’ve heard a rumor the Empress is preparing an army to take Shria.” Lunan raised his glass and waved it, signaling the waitress for a refill.

  “Silence,” a commanding voice said, booming through the pub.

  Lunan’s head snapped around toward the entrance. Ka-bes straightened in her seat, craning her neck trying to see through the crowd with a smile on her lips, expecting to find another drunken reveler prepared to embarrass himself with another drunken speech.

  “I said, ‘Silence!’”

  The drumming stopped, a note from the pokbo fading into a pitiful bleat.

  Bishop Diyune stood at the door in his flowing red and gold robes, his eyes fierce and glaring at the graduates with disdain, scanning the room, an aura of power and menace crackling about him.

  Ka-bes leapt to her feet, her chair clattering in the silence, drawing his gaze to her.

  “It has come to my attention,” Bishop Diyune said in a rich, booming baritone, “that an unacceptable event has occurred, a grave injustice violating our code and our principles.”

  Ka-bes clasped her shaking hands together, bowing her head, her breath sticking in her throat, her heart sinking.

  Bishop Diyune pointed into the crowd. “Ja’ast.”

  Ka-bes held her breath. She squeezed her eyes shut and tensed her body, hoping he’d stop there.

  Bishop Diyune raised his right hand, his finger waving toward the far end of the pub, toward her corner, toward her. “Ka-bes. Both of you. Come here.” He gestured to a spot on the floor before him.

  Ka-bes gulped, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Her friends retreated from her, opening up a path to Bishop Diyune’s side. She pushed a chair out of her way and staggered forward, fluttering through that chasm, her hands shaking, her legs unsteady, and she bowed before Bishop Diyune. Her voice quivering, she said, “B-bishop?”

  Ja’ast joined her but remained quiet, his neck bent but his back straight, his eyes pointing toward the stained wooden planks of the floor and his mouth compressed into a line.

  “I am disgusted.” Bishop Diyune’s voice surged in volume. “As the Priests of Arenghel, we aspire to a higher standard. The fabric of the empire’s society rests on the bedrock of our moral strength. The Empress cannot hold the empire together by Herself; She needs us, our help, our ethical certitude, and our righteous example to secure the hearts and minds of the people. If you have studied your canon, you know this. All of you who have passed your civil service exam should know this if nothing else, unless you cheated on your exam.”

  His voice stopped, and in the deadly quiet of the inn, the only sound remaining was his ragged breathing, the rasp of anger held in check. Ka-bes peeked up and found his attention on her. She licked her lips. “Yes, sir. I am sorry.”

  “Yes,” he said. “You are indeed sorry—a sorry excuse of a cleric who does not deserve the honor of the robes on her
back. Do either of you have anything else to say in your defense?”

  Ka-bes swallowed. She glanced at Ja’ast, who said nothing. He clasped his hands behind his back.

  She held her head high, and said, “It’s my fault—”

  Bishop Diyune placed his forefinger over her lips, silencing her. His finger burned and her lips crackled, exploding with pain. She pulled back, but the skin of her lips stuck to his finger. She couldn’t move away, and the pain swept through her as the stink of her burning flesh filled her nostrils.

  “You are a liar,” Bishop Diyune said, sneering at Ka-bes. He turned to Ja’ast. “And you? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  Ja’ast raised his head, glaring at Bishop Diyune, his eyes mere slits. “Would it matter if I did?”

  “No.” Bishop Diyune’s left hand whipped out, his finger striking Ja’ast on the lips. Ja’ast’s body tensed and tendrils of red smoke rose into the air. “You are a cheater.”

  Bishop Diyune withdrew his hands, yanking his fingers from their lips, tearing the upper layer of the skin off.

  Ka-bes bent forward, crying out in pain, her hands rising to cover her aching mouth. Ja’ast stood beside her, scowling, his fists at his side, blood dribbling down his chin.

  “You two are no longer welcome in the sacred halls of the empire,” Bishop Diyune said. “Take your disgrace from my sight or I will throw you into the dungeons and forget you there.”

  KA-BES FINISHED HER chant, and the winds and waves at her command eased her father’s ship into its slip. Her father cast the mooring lines to her mother, who had been waiting on the dock with a wheelbarrow. Beads of sweat dripped from Ka-bes’s chin beneath the midday sun, her poncho falling in around her as the breezes ceased. Her father leapt to the dock and tied the ship in place.

  Two imperial warships bobbed in the harbor, their mooring lines to the central pier growing tight and slack with the rocking waves. Soldiers in black and red armor swarmed from the ship like ants pouring out of a mound and formed up into rows, their sergeants and officers yelling at them in harsh voices.

  “Ain’t that a wonder?” Ka-bes’s mother asked in a wispy voice, her face a stony mask of frowning crags and crevasses. “Most soldiers I’ve ever seen in a place.”

  Ka-bes flicked her wrist and a spout of water flew from the bay into her brazier, dousing the flame there. Tendrils of sparkling smoke swirled up to disappear in puffs of magic. “Best to stay far away from whatever that is.”

  “What do you think is going on?” her father asked, clambering up onto the railing, his eyes on the warship.

  “I have not the first thought,” Ka-bes said. “But it can’t be anything good.”

  She whispered a word and triggered a spell. Winds swirled and hoisted one chest after another up over the railing and settled them neatly down onto the cart.

  A loud command echoed across the harbor. The soldiers marched down the pier and into Tuth-yoo, toward the main street leading to the temple at the heart of the town where the priests ruled.

  “You should go ask what the commotion is about,” her father said, jumping down beside her mother. “Might be rebels. Maybe we could catch ‘em, hand ‘em over, and get a big, fat reward.”

  “I don’t need that much trouble,” Ka-bes said, touching her lips, the mark burned across them tingling. She leapt down to the pier beside them. “I’m going home and taking a nap. I’ll leave rebel-catching to the soldiers and the priests.”

  Her father cackled with laughter as he lifted the handles to the wheelbarrow and pushed it across the dock toward the fish-market, with Ka-bes on one side and her mother on the other, all of them watching the procession of soldiers. An important-looking priest strutted down a gangplank, with thin arms and legs and a round belly, and a tall man dressed in black leapt from the masts and landed with ease and grace by the priest’s side.

  Her mother reached out to Ka-bes, placing a purse in her hand. “Don’t forget to run by and pay for the new net.”

  Ka-bes took the purse, tossed it up, caught it, and winked. “Or maybe I’ll buy one of these cute soldiers a few drinks. You’ve been asking about grandchildren.”

  Her father guffawed as he pushed their catch toward their stall, but her mother crossed her arms. She said, “That might not be a bad idea. But bring him by the house first so I can make sure he’s worthy.”

  Ka-bes walked away smiling, securing the purse onto her belt before weaving through the chaos of ships loading and unloading, surrounded by sailors and merchants pulling at boxes and crates, talking in a smattering of tongues and dialects.

  Her stomach growled. She considered what she had to eat in her apartment, whether she needed to buy something on the way, and she left the crush of people, entering a narrow lane between two warehouses. She stepped over a single flower growing between cracks in the concrete and stone of the ground, and with a whisper and a flick of her wrist, moved puddles of rainwater out of her way until she reached the central street of Tuth-yoo.

  Menacing soldiers crowded the central street, stopping people and barking orders. Priests meandered through the crowds, casting spells.

  Ka-bes slipped into a dark alley heading toward her apartment, thinking of the warmth of her bed, but her hand touched the purse at her belt and she stopped, wincing. “Ah, by the ten gods of memory. The new net.”

  She wheeled about like a scolded child and jogged through another alley, one heading back in the direction of the harbor. A cool breeze whistled down the lane, colder than normal for this time of year and strong, carrying with it the sound of distant thunder and of a baby’s laughter. The wind picked at her hair, blowing it into her eyes.

  Ka-bes shivered and hugged herself, stopping by the open door to a carriage-house. She peeked inside to make sure no one was riding out, but her eyes met the frightened gaze of an aged priestess.

  The venerable rector of Tuth-yoo leaned against a horse, panting for breath and cradling a baby in her thin arms. A saddle lay at her feet. Her robes were those of a simple cleric, though her face was lined and wrinkled with experience and responsibility.

  The rector gasped. She angled the baby away from Ka-bes.

  “Rector Che-su?” Ka-bes blinked and bowed, her heart skipping, afraid to intrude on the most powerful of the priests and priestesses overseeing the city, but she was just as afraid not to offer help. She clasped her hands before her in the manner of a servant. “Are you well? Is there a problem?”

  “Ka-bes?” the old woman said, her eyes narrowing as she studied Ka-bes’s face. “Is that you?”

  Ka-bes stepped through the doorway and bowed once more. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “My little disgraced priestess?” Che-su shut her eyes and shook her head. She slumped over as though exhausted. “Of all the possibilities, Maegrith sends you to serve me?”

  “I didn’t mean to intrude, ma’am,” Ka-bes said, not liking the old woman’s tone. “I must be on my way to the net-maker’s.”

  “No.” Che-su lowered herself to one knee, grunting, her movements awkward and stiff with age. She motioned toward Ka-bes. “Come in and close the doors. Quickly now. We don’t have much time.”

  Ka-bes eased the doors shut, not daring to disobey Che-su’s command.

  Che-su laid the baby next to the saddle. The infant raised its plump arms toward the horse, laughing and gurgling, and the horse lowered its head toward the baby, chuffing and nickering at the child, its nostrils flaring. A black gemstone shot through with jagged white streaks glittered on the baby’s chest, fastened around the neck with a simple rawhide string. The stone flared, shining bright for a heartbeat before dying back down.

  “What’s going on?” Ka-bes asked. “Whose baby is that and what spell is on that stone?”

  “Her name is Sifa.” Che-su closed her eyes and chanted in a language of magic Ka-bes did not recognize. The priestess settled one hand on the baby’s forehead, and with the other motioned Ka-bes forward to her side.

  Ka-bes in
ched closer, but Che-su waved her hand again with more vigor, with more command, urging Ka-bes to join her. Ka-bes took the older woman’s hand, but her eyes fell on the baby. It appeared to be a well-formed infant, by her uneducated guess less than a month old, with pale skin almost the shade of an Onei’s, bluish hair like a water nymph’s, and eyes a wondrous pale blue.

  But the pupil.

  Instead of a round pupil like a human’s or a slit like a cat or a coulven, the baby’s pupil was a rectangle like a horse’s or a goat’s, and on the sides of its little head were two knobby bones—nascent horns.

  “Rector?” Ka-bes gulped. “What manner of Summoned thing is this? She is too young to be called from her home realm.”

  Che-su continued chanting. Her hand twisted around and grasped Ka-bes’s wrist. Her hand grew hot, and then cold. A burst of magical energy surged into Ka-bes, tingling up her arm.

  She tried to pull away, but her muscles tightened up and refuse to respond to her will; she wanted to scream for help, for pain, for anger, but no sound found its way past her lips. The sensation grew in intensity.

  A shadow formed around Che-su’s head, swirling and solidifying into a halo of darkness freezing into black spikes that slithered into Che-su’s skull. The skin around Che-su’s wattled throat throbbed and glowed. Mounds the size of fingers rose from her skin, swirling around her neck, faster and faster until they popped out from beneath her skin, wriggling and squealing.

  Che-su chanted, the words growing harsher, requiring more of her effort. Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her nose. The worms moved down Che-su’s arm, her hand, and onto Ka-bes’s hand. The worms wound their way up her arm until they left her sight, but she felt their slimy undulating bodies circling her throat, tighter and tighter, faster and faster.

  Che-su’s chant stopped.

  The worms stopped moving and hardened into a collar around Ka-bes’s neck.

  Che-su released her grip and panted for breath, staring at Ka-bes, studying her.

  Ka-bes staggered backward. Her hands grasped the circlet around her throat. She whispered, “What have you done?”