Under Fragile Stone Read Free Page B

well out of sight of the village and sat down to wait on one of the fallen monoliths that had once marked the boundaries of their ancestors’ territory. They knew Emos would be watching the village and they only needed to wait and he would find them. While they waited, Nayalla told her husband about her audience with the Provinchus.
    ‘By the gods, it was embarrassing,’ she sighed. ‘I lost the rag in the end. I had to give up or just scream at him. He had no interest in listening to us. We’re just cattle to him.’
    ‘It was only going to be a matter of time before they started settling here.’ Mirkrin lay back on the stone. ‘They’ve filled every land around them. We don’t have the Braskhiams’ technology or the Karthars’ strength, so the Noranians were bound to turn on us eventually, once they got over their superstitions about us. There’s some who’re starting to think a fight is the only way to go.’
    Nayalla looked up sharply: ‘I know that you’re not one of them, right?’
    Mirkrin shrugged and avoided his wife’s gaze.
    ‘How much territory do we let them take, Nayalla? They’re destroying the birthplace of our culture – the place that’s made us what we are. What will be next? The smelt pools? The birthing glens? How long do we stand for it?’
    Nayalla scowled. Beyond the occasional fight between tribes over territory, the Myunans were a relatively peaceful race. She was not averse to a stick-fight every now and then – it kept everyone on their toes – but a fight with the Noranians would be for keeps. And the Noranians were experts in war. The Sestinians had fought for decades against their northern neighbours and the wars had crippled their country . Now they were little more than a Noranian province. The Myunans could not win a war against Noran.
    She was spared further brooding by the appearance of her brother over the edge of the trees in the shape of an eagle. He glided down, landing lightly and then slunched, letting his malleable muscles relax to regain his normal form. A lean man with grey, shoulder-length hair and a face marked with a blue, triangular tattoo, he always had the air of someone who knew more than he wanted about the world. Walking over to them with a rare smile on his face, he hugged his sister and then grasped Mirkrin’s hand. He stood back after greeting them and hesitated. Emos had been looking after Taya and Lorkrin the previous summer, when they had run away and got involved with an attempt to rescue a gardener from the Noranians. The two children had nearly been killed several times as a result and Emos winced with shame every time he thought of it. Now, he had come bearing more grim news.
    ‘Kalayal Harsq is coming to Absaleth,’ he told them, his face even more grave than usual.
    ‘The exorcist from Braskhia?’ Nayalla frowned. ‘Why is he coming here?’
    ‘The Noranians have contracted him to purge the mountain of its soul,’ Emos grunted bitterly. ‘It seems they believe in ghosts when profits are at stake.’
    ‘When is he coming?’ Mirkrin asked.
    ‘He could arrive at any time. He left Braskhia with his followers two days ago, before I heard the news,’ Emos replied. ‘I flew out here as fast as I could. He and his people are coming in trucks. He is supposed to pick up a Noranian escort along the way.’ 
    ‘I’ve only heard stories about him,’ Mirkrin looked out towards the horizon. ‘They say he can wipe the life from a land. Fields that he has blessed bear crops with no taste or goodness; lakes and rivers with the purest water carry no fish. Makes me wonder why anybody would want him around.’
    ‘Because forests had to be felled where those fields were planted, and dams had to be built in front of those rivers,’ Emos said. ‘And for that, part of the land’s spirit had to be broken. Going up against nature takes good judgement and a sense of balance. With a man like Harsq, you need neither. And the Noranians are