Dawnmaid: Song of the Arkafina 3

by Suzanne Francis

Overview

Gwenn and Gunnar travel to Khalama to bury Arkady Svalbarad, but nothing goes as planned. For one thing, Arkady isn't really dead. When Gunnar mysteriously disappears, Gwenn and Arkady form an alliance that will bring both danger and new promise to the peoples of Yrth.

Meanwhile, Huw and Katkin find comfortable shelter in an ice-locked valley, until the addition of two orphaned children to the family leaves Katkin feeling trapped and miserable. After Huw's arrest for murder, she must decide whether to run or stand by his side. But a chance meeting steers her to Starruthe just in time to deliver Gwenn's baby daughter Myriadne.

Now that the Dawnmaid has been born, it will take a miracle to hide her from Maggrai, who has returned with a weapon of total annihilation. But Gunnar also has a secret weapon, though he is reluctant to use it...

Contains adult themes.

Dawnmaid is the third book in the "Song of the Arkafina" series.

The "Song of the Arkafina" series:

1. Heart of Hythea
2. Ketha's Daughter
3. Dawnmaid
4. Beyond the Gyre

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781843198154
Publisher:	Bladud Books
Publication date:	06/16/2009
Series:	Song of the Arkafina , #3
Pages:	308
Product dimensions:	5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.69(d)
Age Range:	16 Years

About the Author

After earning her BA in Geography, Suzanne worked in many fields, from urban planning to migrant farm work, dishwashing, retail management and massage therapy. She has drawn on these experiences and a lifelong interest in travel to create the unique characters and settings of her novels. Presently, Suzanne lives in rural Dunedin, New Zealand with her husband Michael and four children. She is the author of six fantasy/romance books, including the four volume series "Song of the Arkafina" and the two volumes of "Sons of the Mariner."

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

Wanmoon + Ruber + Prox

He searches the endless Darkness for a sign. Ben'aryn carries a shard of memory, of another time, when he flew unfettered between the stars. Now the light he holds in his heart is all that keeps him going.

* * * *

Gwenn used a stick to poke the back end of the shaggy, dark brown yak, trying to move the sulky beast forward. Gunnar, cursing, pulled the halter attached to the front.

He threw down the rope in disgust. "It is no good, Faircrow, we are never going to get this useless creature up the pass. We might as well stop now and head back before it gets too dark."

A voice, dimly echoing from the rock faces around them, weirdly selected only one of his words to repeat.

"Stop, stop, stop..."

Gunnar sat down on a rock and stared unhappily at the stubborn beast of burden. The animal looked placidly back at him.

The yak carried a mysteriously shrouded bundle, and a pannier hanging off each broad flank. Gwenn moved forward to check the contents of these two panniers now. A well-swaddled, two-month-old infant rode contentedly in each, and she carefully tucked in both blankets before she answered.

"We have to go on, Gunnar. The last village is miles back, and the boys need a warm place to sleep tonight. I don't like the looks of that cloud bank building to the east. It could start snowing at any time. That is the last thing we need."

She shaded her blue eyes with her hand, and looked ahead up the rutted, winding track that led to a high pass between two mountains. The village of Khalama lay somewhere on the other side and they had to reach it by nightfall. The sun wouldsoon be dropping behind the shoulder of the rocky prominence before them, and then the temperature would sink like a stone.

She aimed a kick at the yak's flank, and the animal gave a protesting groan, but did not move further. A snowflake drifted lazily downwards, and landed on Gunnar's outstretched hand. Gwenn looked at him worriedly. So far he had been stoically uncomplaining throughout this very long journey; they had traveled from the windswept shores of Yr, up the wide Bresla River through the heart of Ruboralis, and then along a series of ever-narrowing water courses until they reached the foothills of the T'Shang Mountains. Now he looked worn out, exhausted by days of high altitude trekking and the constant struggle to find food and shelter in this strange land.

He shook his disheveled blond head mournfully. Again he urged, "We should go back. This fool's errand has gone on long enough."

Gwenn stared at the bulky object wrapped in white linen, slung across the back of the yak--the body of Arkady Svalbarad. "I said I would bring him back to T'Shang. I promised. We have to keep going."

Gunnar stood and grasped her shoulders, then shook her roughly. "We cannot! Would you risk the lives of your children? He would not want you to do that, Gwenn."

More snowflakes fell, sticking to the yak's back. One of the babies woke and began to whimper. Gwenn gave a cry of frustration and grasped the yak's halter. She threw all her considerable strength into dragging the animal, but only succeeded in getting it to move forward a few feet.

She cried, "Move, damn you! I won't give up now. I won't!"

Now it was her voice that rang in their ears. "Damn you, damn you, damn..."

Gunnar stepped forward and calmly started untying the ropes that held the shrouded body on the yak's back. She stared at him, bewildered, and then asked, "What are you doing?"

"I am leaving him. We aren't going to make it to Khalama by nightfall. Jakob and Arvid can't survive a snowstorm. Now are you going to help me, or shall I go back alone?"

"Alone, alone, alone..." the echo added mockingly

He turned his back on her after a few seconds and went on untying the ropes. Gwenn stood still, paralyzed by indecision. Once again she was going to have to choose between the two of them--Kadya and Gunnar.

Just then the sound of bells in the distance brought her blond head up sharply. "Listen, Gunnar, someone is coming! Maybe they can help us." She looked hopefully at him, and he sighed.

"We don't speak the language in this country, remember? How are we going to make ourselves understood?"

But seeing the despair in her blue eyes, he took his hand away from the yak and waited for the distant figure to approach from the top of the pass. An old man, swinging a walking stick festooned with bells, made his way quickly down the slope. He wore a long robe of some bright yellow material, wrapped over one arm, and tied with a thick piece of silken cord. Long braids of iron gray hair, decorated with yarn and turquoise, poked out either side of his outlandish peaked cap. When he drew up before them he grinned madly, his almond-shaped eyes almost disappearing into a thousand wrinkles, and bowed low.

"Hello, hello, hello..." the old man said laughingly, and his voice faded away exactly like an echo.

Then, catching hold of the yak's bridle, he gave it the gentlest of tugs, and the beast set off at a steady pace up the path the way he had come. Gwenn and Gunnar looked at each other a moment, nonplussed, then had to hurry to catch up to the old man. Though his head did not even reach Gunnar's shoulder, he set a blistering pace.

Breathlessly, Gwenn asked him, "Khalama? We go Khalama?"

He grinned again and nodded, and she could only hope he at least understood their destination. The path grew steeper but he did not slow down, nor did he allow the yak to tarry as the snow fell even more thickly. Gunnar forced himself to concentrate solely on getting enough of the thin air into his lungs so as not to pass out. Still, after a moment, gray spots swam in his vision and he staggered to one side of the path. Gwenn, less affected by the altitude, caught his arm and dragged him forward.

"The top is just ahead, I can see it. Soon we will be headed down again, and it will get easier."

Gunnar allowed her to pull him upwards, too tired to let this affront to his masculinity bother him much. Only his love for her kept him going now, as it had the last few weeks of their journey through this strange land of mountains and ice. On his boat, the Fire Drake, he had felt more or less happy, even as the rivers of Ruboralis carried him further and further away from his beloved ocean. Any stretch of navigable water meant freedom and high adventure to Gunnar, for he had once been a Fynära raider, the most feared denizen of the frozen northern seas.

Inevitably, the day had come when the shallow hulled vessel scraped the bottom of a narrow channel, and he had to abandon his cherished boat. That was a very hard moment for Gunnar, who had captained the Fire Drake for seven years, and been part of her crew for three before that. Gunnar knew the local population would strip and break her apart if he left her behind, so over Gwenn's strenuous objection he had set the boat alight and watched unhappily as the dragon figurehead went up in red flame. Then he had turned away, so that his wife would not see him weep.

Gwenn could see a large cairn of loose stones ahead, surrounded by many colorful strings of flags, printed with curious pictures and symbols. They finally reached the top of the pass, and the old man paused briefly to toss a stone into the pile. Then he pointed down into a misty valley stretching away below them.

"Khalama," he said, and broke into a fit a giggles that thoroughly discomfited Gwenn and Gunnar.

Yet they had no choice but to continue at his side as he set off down the track again, even faster than before. Soon the air warmed and thickened, and Gunnar found he could breathe again without effort. The temperature in the valley became so mild they had to remove layers of clothing as they went downwards. The old man, who wore only a thin cotton robe, seemed untroubled by the changing conditions. Now as they reached the terraced fields above the village, Gwenn saw men and women at work harvesting barley. She shivered, remembering the lateness of the season, and wondered whether they could possibly return through the mountains with winter approaching.

If not, what can we do? Stay here in this strange land?

Gwenn shook her head at this. Neither she nor Gunnar could speak T'Shanga. Nevertheless, after a few moments earnest reflection, she decided not to worry about it. They had money enough to buy food and shelter for the winter. A month ago, Eydis, Gunnar's grandmother, had given them a goodly store of gold pieces, saying smilingly that she had no need of them. A few hours later she was dead, in a terrible fire that almost claimed Jakob and Arvid as well.

The village of Khalama fanned out in front of them, as the old man hurried down towards the muddy main street. The precipitation had turned to rain in this more hospitable valley, and Gwenn marveled at the lush greenery she saw all around her. Huge forests of rhododendrons clung to the sloping hills above the village, inexplicably in full bloom, though spring was long past. Tiny gardens grew beside each little hut, with melons and cabbage competing for space on the carefully furrowed ground. Several villagers called out cheery greetings to the old man as he passed, still leading their now utterly obedient yak. Gwenn felt sure she heard someone shout the name "Dawa." Could this inexhaustible old man be Kadya's old teacher, Dawa Tinley?

They stopped before a two-story square structure with a steeply pitched roof. The old man smiled and gestured for them to enter through a red door decorated with brightly painted symbols. Gwenn stood by as Dawa, if that indeed was the old man's name, managed to untie the ropes holding Arkady's inert form to the yak. Gunnar looked on in disbelief as he hefted the body across his shoulder and sent the yak packing with a slap on the rump. The old man appeared to handle Arkady's considerable weight with ease.

They went inside. Gwenn and Gunnar each carried a basket containing one of the twins, Jakob and Arvid. The front room looked bright and warm, despite the rain that fell outside the window. A fire blazed in an open square hearth that filled the centre of the room. A stone chimney carried the smoke up through the ceiling and warmed the upstairs as well.

After laying Arkady's shrouded body down on a blanket by the fire, the old man turned towards them saying, "Welcome to my humble home. You must think of it as your own."

He spoke Dalvolk perfectly. Gunnar stammered, "Thank you, but we do not know your name, kind sir."

The old man laughed uproariously. "I am sure you do. Dawa Tinley am I. Did you not come to find me?" He busied himself with a cast iron kettle on the fire and soon had hot water for tea.

Gwenn looked at him with interest. "How did you know we were coming? And that we needed help?"

He smiled and patted the side of his head. "The birds told me. They keep watch for Dawa, so that he knows who comes and goes through the pass. I sent them to look for you many days ago, once my friend said you were on your way." He laughed. "Such very big people are easy to find." Gwenn stood just over six feet, and Gunnar closer to six and a half. Both had to bend quite low to enter the house.

"Your friend," said Gunnar, thoroughly baffled. "How did they know?"

Dawa looked surprised at this. "Hana is my friend. Why would she not know? It was because of her last instruction to Griffon that you came here, was it not?"

Now Gwenn looked baffled. "Who is Griffon?" She bent down to retrieve Jakob from his basket, and he snorted sleepily. Absently, she sat down by the fire, and put the baby to her breast.

"Arkady," Dawa pointed to the body on the blanket and smiled. "He used to be my pupil and a very good one he was too. I gave him that nickname, for the way he consumed the teachings, just like a griffon vulture attacks a dead yak."

Gunnar sighed at this, and turned away.

Arvid stirred in his basket and Gunnar went to pick him up. Dawa beat him to it, and cradled the baby carefully in his arms. He looked down on the tiny face and smiled. "Your boy Arvid is a fine-looking fellow. Like his brother Jakob."

Gunnar's eyes went wide at this casual statement. Not only did Dawa know the names of the twins, but he had been able to tell them apart, something that Gunnar did not always feel confident doing. Dawa met his eyes and said seriously, "You love them. That is very good. All sons need the love of a father." Gunnar nodded firmly, wondering to himself if the old man before him could read his mind. He did love his sons, more than anything.

Dawa laughed. "No, no. It shows on your face." But his words did not reassure Gunnar. Then the old man said softly, with his eyes on Arkady. "I loved that one as a son too." Gwenn stood and brought Jakob over to Dawa, and exchanged him for Arvid, who wailed hungrily.

As Gwenn made her way back to the fireplace, she asked, "Why did Kadya need to come back here, Dawa? He begged me not to let them bury his body at Starruthe. Is he truly dead?"

Dawa nodded and Gwenn's face fell. He said solemnly, "Griffon wanders now in the Vastness and it is beyond my power to call him back to the living world."

Gwenn said sadly, "I thought, perhaps, you know ... His heart stopped beating quite a while ago, weeks actually, but his body still looks ... fresh. Are you sure?" She looked hopefully at him, and Dawa smiled and stroked Jakob's cheek.

"If Griffon practiced Firemma,[1] as he was taught, then there may be a way. But it would be dark and dangerous for the one who undertakes it. Hana gives only a very few fortunate ones the ability to cross the heavenly plane between the living world and the Vastness. Fewer still are allowed to return." Dawa looked over at Gunnar, but he said nothing else.

[1 A teaching that keeps the body and spirit together for a time after death.]

Eagerly Gwenn said, "I will go to the Vastness and bring Kadya back. I am not afraid."

It came from his mouth before he could bite it back. "You cannot! I won't let you."

She stared back across the room at him and shrugged. "What would you have me do, Strong Arm? I must help Kadya if I can, after what he did for me." Gwenn looked down at Jakob, now sleeping with his mouth still firmly attached to her nipple.

Gunnar asked quietly, "Even if it meant that your children would lose their mother?" He would not beg her to stay for his sake, not in front of Dawa. The flash of anger made him feel suddenly very weary, and Gunnar stood and stretched. He did not wait for Gwenn to reply, because he knew her answer already. "Is there a place for us to sleep in your house?" He looked expectantly at Dawa, who nodded.

"Come upstairs. I will show you the sleeping quarters. You have had a long and wearisome journey, and there is no need to go any further this night or for many days and nights to come." He turned to leave the room through a curtained doorway leading to the stairs.

Gunnar put Arvid back in his basket and said to Gwenn, "I am going to lie down for a while. Are you coming?"

She answered quickly. "Not yet. I want to talk to Dawa some more. I must find out everything I can about this journey to the Vastness before I undertake it." Gunnar sighed deeply but did not argue further with her. Instead he walked over to study an intricate silk hanging on the wall, of a beautiful green-skinned woman. Dawa joined him.

"My friend," he said softly. "She understands. When the time comes to choose, she will help you." Gunnar had no idea what he meant, and did not feel like asking. He followed as Arkady's teacher took the steep, uneven steps quickly, two at a time. He led Gunnar along a narrow hallway to a small side room. Romping red beasts colorfully decorated the door curtain. "They keep bad dreams at bay," said Dawa, smiling. "Will you like to bathe before your rest?"

Gunnar nodded and fervently hoped that there would be hot water. Weeks of traveling had left him heavily bearded and filthy. He allowed himself to be led into an alcove off the bedroom. Dawa bustled in and out with steaming buckets of water, and soon the deep, blue-tiled bath was full to the brim. Gunnar undressed and settled back contentedly, only wishing Gwenn would come and join him. After soaping his skin thoroughly, he took his knife and scraped the reddish-blond bristles from his face and neck. Dawa took his clothes away and promised to have them washed by the morning. He provided a soft woolen robe for Gunnar to wear in the meantime, along with some slippers with curiously pointed toes.

Surprisingly, Gwenn appeared just a few moments later, and sighing, joined Gunnar in the tub. He looked at her with concern. She seemed very upset about something, but when he questioned her she only shrugged. After a long soak and a wash they left the bath together and dressed in identical loose-fitting robes of sky blue, which tied at the waist with silky knotted cords. In the bedroom Dawa had left a tray with two bowls of barley soup. Gwenn sat on the bed and started to eat, but still did not speak. Gunnar sat beside her and ate his own portion, wondering what Dawa had said to upset her so.

Later, as they lay together in the double bed waiting for sleep, she said unhappily, "I cannot go to the Vastness. Dawa says I do not have the ability to cross the heavenly plane. Then he told me that he doesn't know how to cross it either. He says there might be someone who can, but we cannot ask him if he is willing. It is so unfair, Gunnar." She began to cry quietly, and Gunnar, never able to remain annoyed with her for long, put his arms around her comfortingly.

He stared up at the low ceiling, and the ornately carved, dark beams. More than anything he wished that Gwenn could somehow let her old lover rest, and give her heart solely to him. He asked more because he knew she expected it, rather than from any real desire to know, whether Dawa knew the name of this person who had the ability to cross the heavenly plane. He felt Gwenn's nod in the darkness.

She said vehemently, "But he will not tell me who it is! Dawa says that they must come to their own decision."

Gunnar could think of nothing to say to this, but an uncomfortable feeling pricked at the back of his mind that he might know who Dawa meant. But that thought died as Gwenn left his arms and turned away from him, facing the wall. He stroked her back tentatively, hoping she would respond. Gunnar had been patiently waiting for many days for a chance to make love to her, but the frantic journey across the steppes of Ruboralis had given them few opportunities. Now, as the babies slept quietly in their baskets, and he and Gwenn shared this warm and comfortable bed, he wanted her very much.

But she merely shook his touch away and said, "Not tonight. I have too much on my mind. It wouldn't be any good for either of us."

He withdrew his hand, sighing, and rolled over. Gunnar knew it would be of no use to argue. Though the room was very quiet and dark, he thought his need would make it difficult for him to get to sleep. Nevertheless, he found himself dreaming almost right away. A beautiful green-skinned woman stood before him, smiling tenderly. She said, "The time has come for you to find yourself. Will you undertake the journey?"

Gunnar shook his head, saying, "I don't understand. What journey?"

Hana laughed merrily, like the sound of many small bells. "To the Vastness, of course. To bring back Griffon. He is my Seed Bearer and I need him here in the living world. And you have work to do of your own."

He stammered, "Me? How can I go there? I am but an ordinary man, Hana. Surely Gwenn should be the one to go. She knows much more about Goddesses and the uncanny."

"You are the grandson of the Numen. She is more powerful than any Goddess. Have you not always known this in your heart?" He thought about this, and then nodded. Gunnar had lived with his grandmother Eydis until age twelve. To his young eyes, she had been a witch--benevolent and wise--practicing her gentle magics among the people of the village. Only in the last weeks of her life did Gunnar begin to glimpse the real depth of his grandmother's power.

"I cannot cross the heavenly plane. I don't know how." He tried to make his voice firm but it sounded doubtful, even to his own ears.

Hana laughed again. "Why don't you try it then? Prove me wrong, Cousin of Fyn."

He started to ask her how to make the journey, but to his chagrin he realized that the answer was there in his mind, and had been all the long--a small step forwards and to the left would carry him across the heavenly plane. Grinning at her sheepishly, he tried, and found himself in the profound silence of the Vastness. Another step to the right brought him back again. Hana still waited at the foot of the bed, watching Gwenn as she slept. Gunnar stood beside her and asked quietly, "Why do you need him?" He pointed to Gwenn. "It has something to do with her, does it not?"

Hana nodded. "Griffon must join with her so that the Dawnmaid may be born. She will be the savior of my people, and the Guardian of the West."

He stared at her in amazement. "Holy Lutyond, woman! Are you proposing that I risk myself to rescue that sniveling Southerner so he can father a child with the woman I love? You must be completely mad."

She nodded sadly. "I know it is a lot to ask of you. But you must understand. Gwenn gives her heart to you both, but when the time comes for her to decide, she will choose you. Until then, can you not share her for a time with your brother Griffon? The future of the whole Yrth may depend on it."

Gunnar growled, "He is not my brother. I tried to kill him once. Did you know that? I might do it again. I don't like him, and he certainly doesn't like me."

But Hana seemed to know the story already. "Ketha convinced you to, did she not? I don't believe you would kill him now. You owe him much, for he died to give Gwenn life again."

He sighed. "I know that well enough, so don't remind me. How can I ever make it up to him?" Gunnar meant this rhetorically, but Hana answered anyway.

"By showing him the way back to the living world," she suggested gently.

Gunnar looked at her gloomily. "I don't know if I can..."

"Think on it this night. You need not make your decision right away. Tomorrow the way may seem clearer as the sun lights the minds eye. Farewell, my Northman." The green-skinned woman faded into the darkness and Gunnar started, wondering if he had actually been asleep at all. Turning on his side, he watched Gwenn's chest rise and fall, her blond hair glowing softly in the moonlight.

Gunnar tucked a stray lock of hair away from her face, thinking back to the day he first met her. Sif of the golden hair, she had called herself, and Gunnar had believed her to be a Goddess. She looked too beautiful to be mortal--then or now. He loved her deeply and he could not imagine, even for a moment, sharing her with another man. But that is what Hana asked of him.

She stirred and rolled over to face him with half-open eyes, and her gaze was unfocussed and sleepy. "Gunnar? Did the babies disturb you?"

He shook his head and smiled. "A dream woke me. Jakob and Arvid are still sleeping soundly. It won't be time for their feeding for a little while yet." Suddenly, his need for her became desperate and in order that she might fulfill this need he spoke without thinking further. "Gwenn," he whispered in the darkness. "I know the name of the person Dawa was talking about. The one who can cross the heavenly plane."

She raised her head sharply, saying, "Who? Who is it? You must tell me."

He blinked hard several times in the darkness, but she could not see the tears in his eyes. There was no going back now, though her eager response pierced like the keenest of knives. "I am the one. Hana came to me just now. She told me so." He waited, holding his breath, wondering if she would believe him.

At first she seemed not to. "You? Gunnar, don't be absurd. You are just a mortal man."

A few seconds later she snapped her fingers and said, "Wait a moment! Of course--it does make sense. Because of Eydis. She has given you the power." Then she lay back abruptly on the pillow. "But you won't go, will you? Not for Kadya's sake. You hate him."

"Not for his sake, no." Gunnar replied softly. "But for you, I would do anything, you know that. I swore as much to you on the beach, the first day we met, when you spared my life. So you have only to ask me, and I shall go, willingly."

Her blue eyes filled with tears. "You would do that? For me?"

"Yes," he said, solemnly. "For you."

She gave a small cry, and threw her arms about him, pulling him close. Her kisses were grateful, at first, and then more ardent as her fingers struggled to untie the knot in the soft robe he still wore. Laughing softly, Gunnar pulled it off over his head, and then pulled hers off too, with her help. It was not long before she drew him closer still, and he entered the heat of her body with his own. Part of his mind remained somehow detached from this intimacy. It wondered coldly if this lovemaking was worth the price--the dangerous journey to the Vastness to bring back his rival. But as Gwenn cried out in her passion, and sank her nails into the dragon tattoo on his back, the incessant pulse of his own gathering climax drowned out that voice completely. When it ended, and the weeks of frustration drained away, just before sleep he thought, tiredly, that whatever trials he must face, it would be worth it, for her sake.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. After breakfast, Dawa and Gwenn looked on anxiously as Gunnar readied himself for the journey. He wore his own clothes, miraculously washed, dried and mended overnight by their host, and carried a long knife. Dawa instructed him, saying, "Griffon's spirit will linger somewhere close to this house, for it is still attached to his body by the narrowest of threads. I do not know how much longer the thread will hold, so you will have to make haste. You must pull him back across the heavenly plane with you, close to the place his earthly form rests by the fireplace."

Gunnar went to stand before Gwenn, who passed the babies up to him one at a time. He stared for many moments at his sons, without speaking, and Gwenn knew then he did not believe he would return from the Vastness alive. After she placed Jakob and Arvid in their baskets she put her arms around him and whispered, "Go gentle, my love. Our boys need their father to teach them to sail. I am useless with an oar, remember?" Her attempt to lighten the situation did not make him smile

He raised his eyes to meet hers and asked quietly, "And you? Do you need me, Gwenn? Or would you rather that cursed Southerner returned alone?" She hesitated only briefly, but it communicated more to Gunnar than anything she might have said afterwards. He abruptly stepped away and a little to the side. Gwenn stared sadly at the blank space remaining, cursing her indecision, and wishing that he would come back to her so she could tell him she loved him. Jakob and Arvid both began to cry, as the first flakes of snow drifted down outside the windows.