Calandrius were prized by healers for their ability to tell if a sick person was on the verge of death. The calandrius could inhale the breath of the diseased person, absorbing the poisonous vapours that made them ill. But the birds were used sparingly for, to overcome the disease, they had to fly towards the sun until the illness was burnt out of them. Often they did not survive. And, if they did, they would not return to the healer once set free.
Awe stole Byren's breath. He wished Orrade was with him to see this, but they'd separated after they escaped from the burning hall. With his father's murder, his best friend was now Lord Dovecote and he'd led the estate's surviving servants and villagers into the mountains. Byren hoped they had escaped Palatyne, whose cruelty had been illustrated only too graphically when he killed all the old lord's prized doves. Those beautiful birds had done nothing but bring pleasure to those who looked on them.
Unlike these birds. Oh, they were beautiful certainly, any farmer or trader who came across them would try to capture them to make their fortune, but Affinity beasts were not defenceless. The two birds were of a similar size and each probably weighed as much as a wolf hound. Sporting razor-sharp beaks and talons, they circled each other warily. Thanks to their Affinity, they were highly intelligent and attuned to threats.
Byren watched, all else forgotten as he tried to make sense of the confrontation. What were two such rare god-touched beasts doing here in Rolencia's settled farmlands?
Then the hercinia refurled its tail like closing a fan and let the display drop, so that its iridescent tail stretched behind it, twice as long as it was tall. How did it manage to fly with that weight?
At this signal, the calandrius folded its wings by its side and a ripple of shimmering colour flowed down its long neck away from its eye sockets and beak, so that the intensity of the colour eased to a deep, softly glowing magenta.
The calandrius backed up a step. The hercinia also backed up and the two birds seemed to reach an unspoken agreement. As one they fluffed their feathers and sank onto the snow to writhe about, looking for all the world like chickens giving themselves a dust bath.
The absurdity of it made Byren smile, but then his skin went cold as understanding hit him.
Only an Affinity seep would elicit this behaviour from god-touched beasts. He had no Affinity, which was why he could not sense it, but he knew the signs and he'd heard marvellous stories of this phenomena. Affinity seeps were dangerous because they attracted all god-touched beasts. The last time he'd discovered one, it had attracted a lincis. Half great cat, half wolf, the lincis were highly territorial, and Orrade had nearly died.
Cautiously, Byren checked his surroundings for signs of any further Affinity beasts. As far as he knew the ulfr pack were still on the loose. Adult ulfrs were large as a pony and more intelligent. This pack was led by a remarkable male which had shown its followers how to avoid every trap set for them.
Byren listened for their distinctive howls, but there was no sign of the ulfr pack, or other beasts. He relaxed slightly.
The discovery of another seep, the fourth since last spring, was deeply worrying. As well as attracting god- touched beasts, the untamed Affinity that seeped up from the earth goddess's heart was a source of power which could trigger latent Affinity in people. And this would mean the person had only two choices, leave Rolencia forever or serve one of the abbeys. King Rolen would not countenance renegade Power-workers in his kingdom, not after standing helplessly by while they killed his father and older brother during the last Merofynian invasion.
Byren had to report the seep to the abbot, who would send out one of his Affinity warders to contain it. They kept a store of sorbt stones for just such an event. Once the seep's power had been absorbed into the stones, the abbey became their custodian, protecting Rolencia and its people from untamed Affinity.
He should leave and make camp elsewhere.
Byren was about to go when a boy of no more than eleven broached the far rise of the hollow. He was skinny and poorly dressed for the cold, and there was something odd about his face. Having grown up with his father's generation, all of whom carried injuries from the last invasion, he recognised the injury. The child had been beaten cruelly, breaking his cheek bone. This made one eye sit slightly lower than the other.
Catching sight of the birds, a delighted smile broke across the child's strained face. He went to approach, then hesitated, his hand going to a metal collar around his neck. It was connected by a chain to the man who followed. And, as this man broached the rise, Byren recognised him for a renegade Power-worker. An Utlander, judging by the filthy symbols of power tattooed onto his forehead, and the fetishes woven into his matted hair.
'I was right, it's — ' The Utland Power-worker broke off, seeing the Affinity beasts. He'd been speaking Merofynian but Byren had no trouble understanding him, thanks to his mother's patient tutoring.
With a happy, inarticulate cry the boy ran down into the hollow, only to have the keeper jerk so hard on the chain that his legs went out from under him and he sprawled in the snow, gasping, hands going to the metal collar.
Byren winced in sympathy.
Both birds gave cry and leapt into the air, just as half a dozen Merofynian warriors came over the far lip of the rise. The men stood stunned. The boy scrambled to his feet, panting.
Due to their size the birds had to work their broad wings furiously to gain height, creating great downdraughts of air, which stirred up the fine, powdery snow.
'Stop them!' the Utland Power-worker screamed. He swore, beside himself with frustration as the men fumbled to remove their gloves and string their bows. 'No. Not like that, you fools. The calandrius is worth a fortune alive — '
Thud, thud.
Two arrows struck home.
Both labouring birds cried out in distress and dropped into the seep. The boy fell to his knees in the snow with a wail of distress. The Utlander ignored the child's weeping and, after thrusting the boy's chain into the hands of the nearest man, he ploughed down the slope.
Several of the warriors made the Merofynian sign to ward off evil, though whether they were afraid of the seep or their own Power-worker's anger, Byren could not tell.
The Utlander tore off his cloak and threw it over the calandrius, which had come to its feet and was trying to creep away with a broken wing. It gave a mournful cry of protest when he swept it up in his arms.
Staggering a little with the weight, he turned to face his escort. 'You're lucky it's still alive. Come here and take it. Bring my pack, I need my sorbt stones.'
Byren tensed. He did not want to see the power of the seep fall into enemy hands.
There was some confusion as three men slithered down into the hollow, reluctantly joining the Utlander in the centre of the seep. One took the calandrius, and another went to remove the other wounded bird. The third held the boy's chain and the Power-worker's pack. The boy edged nearer the birds, eyes fixed on them. Illuminated by the bright starlight, Byren could see tear tracks glistening on the lad's grimy cheeks.
'Wait. Is the hercinia dead?' The Power-worker checked.
He must have found signs of life for he wrung the bird's neck with callous efficiency, eliciting a whimper of protest from the boy.
'Stop your moaning, brat.' He nodded to one of the warriors. 'Pluck its feathers. That's all it's good for. And don't pinch a single one. I'll know.'
'What about the body?' the man who held the hercinia asked. 'Seems a waste not to eat such a plump — '
'You're right.' The Power-worker made several signs over the bird, muttering under his breath. Byren guessed he was settling the bird's Affinity, which had been released on its death. But the signs were nothing like the ones the castle's Affinity warders used. 'There, it's safe to eat. Make camp over the rise.'
'So near the seep?' the one with the calandrius whined.
'Yes, so near. I still have to drain the seep's power. Now get going.'
The two carrying the birds retreated up the slope, while the third unslung a pack from his shoulder and opened the buckle so the Power-worker could rummage through.
'What of the brat?' he asked.
'Give her a bit of the bird's white meat as a reward. But keep an eye on her, she's just as likely to try to sneak back to roll in the seep. Little savage,' the Power-worker muttered. Byren thought this was a bit rich, coming from a renegade from the uncivilised Utland isles, and he felt sorry for the girl, who he'd taken for a boy. 'Keep an eye on her. Once I set up the active sorbt stone it will drain power from anything, including her.'
