Water Sister: The Kaerling Boxsets, #3

By Freya Pickard

Four companions drawn together on a quest not of their making.

 

"I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book. It's a beautifully written story and I find all of the characters interesting. The descriptions, particularly of the sea voyage, were fabulous. I can feel myself being present in the places described. There are lots of hints of problems to come and foreshadowing which all adds to a sense of mystery." E Baxter

 

The twins, Otta and Erl, seek to retrieve the boy Derri from his kaerling family, whilst Tari is determined to rescue Lally who has been abducted by the kaerlings. Lored has promised the Zoratti that he will protect the sister that up until recently, he had never met.

 

But catching up with the kaerlings proves to be anything but simple, and the companions discover that they can't completely trust each other.

 

When they find themselves trapped on the Isle of Kiros, they become dependent on Lored to free the herb woman who can provide Lored and Otta with the remedy they need in order to continue the voyage north.

 

This is the third e-boxset in the epic fantasy series, The Kaerling. As the companions head north in the wake of the kaerling ship, their journey becomes darker and more difficult with each passing mile. If you're into Game of Thrones, The Lord of the Rings, Tad Williams and David Eddings, you'll love this!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Freya Pickard
• Release date: Jan 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223793427

Freya Pickard

Pushcart Prize nominee, Freya Pickard, is the quirky, unusual author of The Kaerling series, an epic fantasy set in the strange and wonderful world of Nirunen. A cancer survivor, she writes mainly dark fantasy tales and creates expressive poetry in order to leach the darkness from her soul. Her aim in life is to enchant, entertain and engage with readers through her writing. She finds her inspiration in the ocean, the moors, beautifully written books and vinyl music (particularly heavy metal and rock). She enjoys Hatha Yoga, Bhangra and Yogalates and in her spare time creates water colours and pastel drawings of the worlds in her head.

Book preview

Prologue

Rue crumbled herbs into a glass bottle and sealed it with a cork. She poured the leftover dried leaves into the large, clay pot she kept specifically for conception remedies, and replaced the lid. The air was cool and dry in her stillroom, filled with aromas of summer. She slipped the small bottle into her cloak pocket and closed the door behind her.

The still room led straight into her living area where the tarnished kettle dangled on its hook to one side of the cold hearth. The large table was worn with age, just as she was. Rue looked down at her long fingers. They had not lost their suppleness, but the skin was beginning to wrinkle and sag. She slipped off her soft indoor shoes, and, as she pulled on her sturdy boots, she heard the cack-cack-cack warning cry of the blackbird.

A chill of foreboding shivered along her spine and she stood upright, listening. The rooks were in uproar at the bottom of the hill; that meant a group of people approaching. She sighed. She had known this day would come, and indeed, had been waiting for it, for more than a year. She supposed the death of the White Hart had been the final straw.

Rue stepped outside her cottage and locked the door, leaving the key under the woven doormat. She walked slowly down the earthen path, noting the herbs in her garden; rosemary, bay, mint, thyme, garlic, saffron, fennel, sage, oregano, vanilla, fireroot and ashtongue. At the gate, she turned and looked back at the place she called home. The grey stone walls fit snugly beneath the low thatch.

The tramp of boots on damp earth drew her attention beyond the gate. With her back to the cottage, Rue could only see a short way ahead. The narrow track wound its way around the foot of the nearest hill. Overhead, the rooks still clamoured. Rue wrapped her dark cloak around her black woollen dress and walked slowly along the path.

Once round the corner, her cottage lost to sight, the green downs revealed the armoured men clearly. They marched two abreast, their chainmail jingling with each step. She smiled to herself; was she really that dangerous?

At the head of the column marched an older man, white-haired, amber-eyed, still sinewy and strong, though his youth was long gone. He raised his right arm when he saw Rue and the column came to a neat halt. He waited until she stopped before him.

Rue Borrulacht, in the name of the Prince Consort, Danartha Fuar, I, Sean Regan, arrest you on suspicion of murder. There was regret in his unusual coloured eyes as he placed his hand on her shoulder. You will accompany us to the Cathair where you will await his Highness' pleasure.

Rue did not let her fear show; his Highness would get no pleasure out of her.

Stio! Regan turned to one of the men behind him. "You will escort the prisoner to the Cathair and deliver her safely to the breitheamh."

Rue resisted the temptation to flee. She was still sprightly and could run short distances, if she chose. But the only level path led back to her cottage, and she was not about to try and run uphill with twenty one soldiers in pursuit. Not only was it undignified, it indicated guilt.

She allowed herself to be led past the waiting soldiers by Stio, a tall, slim, muscled man, with broad shoulders. She'd once healed him of dorcha'nimh, a rare poison that numbed the limbs and constricted the action of the lungs. His face was partially hidden by his leather helmet, but his dark blue eyes showed his disapproval at the turn of events.

THERE WAS A BRIEF HEARING at the Cathair, in the breitheamh's chambers, and, as Prince Fuar was not present, Rue was remanded indefinitely. Out hunting again, Rue thought, keeping her private suspicions from showing on her face. The breitheamh, a tall, gaunt man, peered at the document before him in the late afternoon light.

Rue Borrulacht, you are charged with the murder of King Toradh Uasal and of the murder of Queen Raithneach Uasal's child last year. You are also charged with the wanton killing of the White Hart this summer. All three charges are punishable by death. How do you plead?

Not guilty, on all charges. Rue replied in a steady voice.

The breitheamh looked surprised. But the Prince Consort himself has brought the charges against you.

As if that should make her plead guilty! Rue refrained from laughing aloud. The Prince Consort is entitled to his opinion, she said in a neutral voice. But I am not guilty of any of the charges. I demand, as is my right, as a free citizen of the island of Kiros, a full trial, where my accuser lays before me his evidence.

The breitheamh looked at her with respect. Very well, then. You will be interred in Oirthir Tower, until evidence can be gathered and a trial date decided upon.

The breitheamh gathered up his papers as Regan's hand touched Rue's shoulder. Give her one of the chambers in the upper tower, with a window. The breitheamh said softly, so only she and Regan could hear. The judge hadn't forgotten that Rue had once saved his wife's life.

RUE SAT ON THE SINGLE wooden chair in her cell. The room was circular and small, containing a hard bed and a chamber pot. The narrow, barred window looked south along the road to the harbour and the misted, sinking sun cast indeterminate shadows on the scrubbed floor. At least the cell was dry. She glanced at the blanket on the bed. It was rough but clean; a soldier's blanket. She did not think that prisoners were usually allowed such luxuries. Rue was grateful for the thought. She glanced back towards the heavy wooden door that could only be opened from outside. In the middle of the upper panels was a square grill. There would be no privacy for her here.

The young guard on the other side of the door stood to attention, studiously not looking at her. She recognised his pale hair and red-cheeked face; he was one of Regan's men.

Sighing, Rue undid her hair, placing the metal pins carefully in her lap. Slowly, she combed out her long, dark tresses with her fingers, noticing the streaks of grey. With much care, she coiled the braids on top of her head like a crown, securing them in place with the pins; pins that her lover, King Toradh had given her, many years before.

She smiled as she remembered Toradh. Twenty years they'd had as lovers, after his young wife died, giving birth to his only heir, pretty little Raith. Twenty years of counselling and talk, of secret midnight trysts and tender nights. Everyone knew, of course, but no one objected. The King had produced an heir; that was all that mattered.

Rue felt anger simmer inside her. As if she would have killed the King! She had kept him alive and well for as long as her arts enabled her. There was no remedy for death, particularly the death that grew within, silently leaching vitality from the body.

And as for causing Raith's miscarriage last autumn! She breathed deeply and closed her eyes, trying to maintain an air of composure. She had nearly thirty years experience bringing children into the world. Even now, she knew there was nothing that could have saved Raith's child. The tiny body had been deformed. Even if the child had been born at the end of its term, it would not have survived. But trying to explain to men who didn't want to listen, that it was the natural way of things, was like asking one of the standing stones at the hilltop shrine to turn around and dance in the air.

And the one man in particular who had caused her so much trouble, was Raith's husband; the Prince Consort, Danartha Fuar. He was well-named, she thought for the hundredth time, and wondered why the King had approved the match. She had warned him against it, but he had let his daughter's heart win over his head.

She became aware that she was biting her lip and relaxed. Opening her eyes, she saw that the sun had set and the road was shadowed, the far sea dark. The air in the cell was cooler already and she pulled the cloak more tightly around her body. In her pocket was the glass bottle with the remedy for Raith, to help her conceive again. She would have to speak to Regan and ask him to take the herbs to the Queen.

Meanwhile, she must find a way of proving her innocence, before she became ill, or died in this bare, hopeless cell.

Chapter One - Travelling Companions

Lored finished his circuit of the camp and tied off the wards around the slim trunk of a larch with a slender thread of power. Nothing could be seen and only a slight tingle of energy could be felt by an ordinary person. Only someone with the gift of power would be aware of the wards and Lored had linked the spells so carefully, that another taku-kevir or even a kaerling, would have to be on top of the enchantments before they could sense them.

Feeling stiff and weary, Lored made his way back to the campfire, collecting an armful of firewood on his way. Otta had ignited the kindling earlier and Tari and Undine had fed larger pieces of wood to the flame as Lored wove the wards. He could hear Erl talking to the horses, as he groomed them and, reaching out with his senses, he found Otta about half a mile away, bow in hand, a brace of rabbits at her belt. Tari and Undine were now chopping the roots and leafy vegetables they'd gathered while Otta had been building the fire. The tripod, with Lored's cooking pot full of water stood over the flames.

They had quickly fallen into a daily routine, even though they'd only been on the road a week. Erl would dig a latrine pit and then care for the horses. Otta was in charge of lighting the fire and shooting game for the pot. Tari and Undine cooked supper and breakfast, and Lored ensured that no one found their camping place. Undine could have done a better job at setting Zoratti wards, but she had insisted, privately to Lored, that her true powers should not be revealed to the others, unless absolutely necessary.

They were a strange group, Lored reflected. The five companions were bound together by their need to rescue two people who had been taken by the kaerlings. But they were all here for different reasons.

Undine and Tari were seeking to find an acolyte named Lally, who had been abducted by the kaerlings in the course of her Temple duties. Tari and Lally had been friends and Undine, as priestess of Aqua, was in charge of both of them. Quite why Lally had been abducted, no one was sure, but the two women were determined to rescue her.

Otta and Erl were responsible for a kaerling child called Derri, who had been re-acquired by his kaerling family. Lored still hadn't got to the bottom of their story. Otta pointedly refused to give him anymore information than was absolutely necessary, and, although Erl was opening up a bit, he seemed in awe of the taku-kevir and fearful of his sister. Lored still couldn't believe that the two of them were twins, let alone related.

Lored had been instructed by the Zoratti to protect his sister Tari, but he was not to let her know they were related.

He needed to speak with Undine alone. Otta was taking her time returning to the camp and he knew Erl would linger with the horses.

Tari, would you collect more water? Lored asked politely.

Obediently, the plump girl, dressed in acolyte white, picked up the empty water skins and an empty bucket and disappeared between the tall boles of the evergreens and larches towards the stream. He heard Erl call a greeting to the girl as she walked past. Undine slid chopped vegetables into the pot and smiled.

What did you need to ask me?

Am I that obvious? Lored felt embarrassed. He wanted Kimorka to think highly of him.

My name is Undine, the woman reminded him.

Lored smiled weakly. Despite visiting his foster family earlier in the summer, he still could not become accustomed to the Zoratti way of reading minds. Undine returned his smile, her grey-blue eyes glinting with mischief as she stirred the vegetables.

You are obvious to me. To the others, no, nothing is obvious to them.

Lored cleared his throat, dismissing his thoughts of how much he loved her and how he had been told that she would never be his. I know you told me back in the Temple that Otta and Erl are related, but how can that be? I've thought about it over the last few days and I can't understand how two people so totally different in character and appearance can be related, let alone be twins.

A slight frown creased Undine's pale forehead and she laid the metal spoon in one of the wooden bowls nearby. We have no first hand knowledge of the kaerlings' dark arts, only second hand stories. We cannot understand how they do what they do, but it seems that they can choose the appearance of an unborn child.

Lored shuddered. But that's putting oneself in the place of the god.

Undine shrugged and smoothed her blue skirts. From the information we have gathered, it appears that the kaerlings believe themselves to be gods.

Lored nodded. From what I have seen and heard, I would agree. But...

Undine shook her head. We cannot fathom the evil they do. We do not want to. But we do know that if a child is not born with the correct characteristics, it is either terminated or made a slave.

The taku-kevir felt sick. How does this relate to Otta and Erl?

They are children of at least one kaerling. The other parent is definitely part-human with possibly some iendu breeding in the past. Erl, in particular shows iendu traits and I would guess that if you look under his unkempt hair, you might find he has the tell-tale ears.

Lored laughed out loud. Erl, an iendu? He considered Undine's words. The lad was tall, very tall, even for a human. And his face was more elongated than a human's should be. And Otta?

She has inherited the kaerling traits, whether by deliberate selection or an accident. She looks and acts like a kaerling. But she is not a true kaerling. She has been taught iendu ways which her natural kaerling instincts are now fighting against.

Lored exhaled slowly. So her power is inherent and she has no idea how to use it.

She is dangerous, Undine agreed. And her power is great. Greater than any iendu I have ever met.

He stared at her, lost for words. I knew her power was strong, but stronger than an iendu?

"The kaerlings were worried about a kulataku; I picked those thoughts from their conversations when they thought no one was listening. Otta certainly acts like an untaught power user. She needs training, otherwise she will destroy herself, and others."

And you expect me to train her?

Undine shrugged again. I cannot. You, however, would be the natural teacher for her.

She won't take any teaching from me. She hates me!

She thinks she hates you because she perceives you as a threat. She fears you more than anything.

And you also said that she carries Weird Stones.

Undine took out a twist of paper from a small wooden box in her pack and let a pinch of salt fall into the pot. She does. She carries dormant Weird Stones.

How can you tell they're dormant?

Undine tilted her head in the Zoratti way. Weird Stones become nothing more than white pebbles, once their power has been used. The Stones she carries have the signature of bound power upon them. They have a resonance that indicates they are original Weird Stones from the First Age.

Do you know if she's tried to use them?

Undine returned the twist of salt to its box and stirred the bubbling stew once more. I would think not. With power such as hers, she could break the binding on the Stones without much thought.

Why hasn't she used them? Lored wondered aloud.

I would imagine the god has prohibited her from using them and she carries the Stones because he has bidden her to do so.

Lored chewed on that as he heard Tari and Erl approach the campsite. Shortly after that, Otta returned with the gutted carcases of two rabbits which she placed in the pot without a word to anyone. Erl disappeared to wash and Otta sat apart from everyone else, checking her daggers. Tari sat with Undine, keeping an eye on the pot and chatted quietly about Erl and the fish he reckoned he could catch.

Fish would be a nice change from rabbit, Undine agreed. Perhaps he can catch us some trout tomorrow.

Otta's expression didn't change, but she emanated such fury that Lored found himself weaving a protective shield around himself and the other two women. A moment later her fury passed and he relaxed. Undine was right; the girl needed taking in hand before she caused serious damage.

Erl returned after a while and sat next to Tari, asking about her life in the Temple. Lored listened closely, intrigued by his sister's upbringing. He wished he could tell her who he was and who she really was, but, for her own safety, she needed to remain ignorant. It made Lored feel sad that Tari felt uneasy around him. Perhaps it was because he was older. Perhaps it was because he was taku-kevir.

It is because you keep looking at her. Undine said silently. She thinks you are attracted to her.

Lored immediately looked away from the dark curly hair and plump figure of his sister and saw Otta staring at him, her angular eyes narrowed in suspicion. With that much power inside her, she'd be able to sense when he and Undine were conversing mind to mind in the iendu way. The girl regarded him coolly and slipped her daggers into their sheaths.

THE STARS WERE BRIGHT overhead when Undine and Tari dished up the rabbit stew. They ate the last of the bread they'd brought with them from Aura Vere and watched the fire slowly die. Above their heads the cooling breeze shushed through the swaying branches, stirring up scents of bark and resin. Lored's eye fell on Erl as he regaled Tari with a tale of the village he and Otta had grown up near. Once again, he felt as though he had met Erl in the past. But, knowing the lad's age, that was impossible. If the lad's father had crossed Lored's path, then that might be it. But Undine hadn't said specifically that Erl took after his father.

He was still pondering this when Undine extinguished the fire and they wrapped themselves in blankets and waited for sleep.

ERL SAT ON MANDARA'S broad back, holding the reins loosely in his right hand. They'd been on the road now for two weeks, and, for the second time, he and Tari had been tasked with buying provisions. He glanced back at the girl on her leggy gelding. She gripped the reins tightly and stared straight ahead between the horse's ears.

Have you named him yet? Erl called, and slowed Mandara's pace so they could ride side by side.

The track here was wide enough for several horses to pass each other with ease. The scents of wood fire and waste were strong up ahead and Erl hoped they weren't too late to buy bread.

Plodder, she replied distantly.

He laughed and she turned her head slightly to smile at him. His heart leapt in his chest at the sight of her full lips curving upwards. Tari was everything Otta was not. She was plump and curvaceous, with a mass of dark, ringletty hair. Her skin was pale and she moved with the grace of a Suryan. Her dark brown eyes sparkled momentarily with laughter and then Plodder stumbled and she grasped at his dark, coarse mane nervously.

Why Plodder? Erl asked, as the gelding righted himself and continued his brisk trot.

Because I wish we could still plod along, instead of going so fast all the time.

Erl smiled sympathetically. His backside and legs ached dreadfully and had done so ever since they'd set out from Aura Vere. Otta insisted they travel as far and as fast as possible, in order to catch up with the kaerlings. Everyone agreed with her, for Undine and Tari were anxious to rescue Lally, and he and Otta needed to make sure Derri was safe. But the constant travel was taking its toll.

They rode around a wide corner and ahead of them was the entrance to a small village. Chickens and dogs skulked by the unattended gate and the smell of chamber pot waste filled their nostrils.

Mandara slowed to a walk and Plodder followed suit. Beyond the gate, the houses with high thatched roofs and tiny windows were crammed together. The main road wound between buildings and animal pens until they reached the village centre; a scrap of sun blasted grass. This was the second village Erl and Tari had passed through since leaving Aura Vere. The consensus of the group was that as Otta looked like a kaerling and had to remain veiled whilst travelling, and as Undine was a priestess and Lored was a taku-kevir, only Erl and Tari would pass unremarked.

Erl halted Mandara with a word and Plodder stopped beside the mare, his head drooping. The young man glanced around, noting the inn, the water seller, the tanner's shop and the bakery. Wait here, he told Tari. I'll get the supplies.

The girl slipped her feet out of the stirrups and slid gracefully to the ground. Her white acolyte robes swung down, covering her under trousers. She took Mandara's halter and held onto Plodder's reins tightly. The horses blew at her and she sighed. I'll be fine. She smiled. I won't lose Mandara this time.

He grinned and wove his way through the roughly-clad peasants towards the bakery. Tari had been so nervous of Mandara initially, that when the mare had tossed her head, she'd let go of the halter in the previous village. Fortunately, Erl's steed hadn't gone far before she found a patch of lush grass and set to cropping it, and they'd been able to retrieve her without further drama.

The peasants didn't look twice at Erl in his worn garments and ragged cloak. The baker's assistant sold him the last of that morning's batch, charging too much money in Erl's opinion. He handed over the coins and took the basket of loaves, hoping they tasted better than the last village's attempt at bread.

Tari was still holding the horses securely when he emerged from the bakery. He fastened the basket onto the leather straps attached to Mandara's saddle. Need any help?

She shook her head, lifted her skirts exposing her rounded calf and thigh covered in off-white cotton, stepped into the stirrup and swung herself up into the saddle.

Come on! Erl checked the position of the sun as he mounted Mandara. We've only got half a turn of the hourglass to meet up with the others!

He set his heels to the mare's sides and she started off at a jog-trot through the village. The peasants gave way before them and the road wound past larger houses, two storeys high, before disappearing into the woodlands once more. Hot sun alternated with cool shadow as they rode beneath beech, ash and oak. The air held hints of autumn already, even though it was still the last month of summer. Some leaves were turning colour at the tops of the trees and a few drifted onto the track as they rode faster, heading west.

Erl kept an eye on Tari, but didn't try to converse with her. He remembered all too well the early days of riding Mandara; how it had taken all his concentration to stay on her back. Every time he looked back, the girl was frowning fiercely, staring between Plodder's ears as he'd taught her.

His throat still felt slightly tender from his fight with the fair-haired kaerling man, Peri, in Aura Vere. He shook off those memories, not wishing to recall the death stench in the Jae's house, or the terror of being half-strangled. He avoided those memories, but others came flooding in. He felt his cheeks flush hot with shame as he remembered how he'd tried to rape his sister. True, he'd not known she was his sister at the time, but that was no excuse.

A light brush on his mind focussed his attention on his twin. She was about half a mile southwest of the path and her thoughts were agitated.

Where are you? He asked silently.

In a clearing just off the main track. Excitement was evident in Otta's thoughts. Follow the deer path to the left, after you've passed the water mill.

Erl said nothing to Tari. He and Otta had agreed not to reveal their mind link to their companions, until they felt they could trust them more. Personally, Erl had no difficulty in trusting Tari. She was a treu-priestess, though she still wore acolyte white. She wasn't a taku-kevir or a kaerling and Erl enjoyed being around her.

When they reached the water mill, he cast around for the deer path and found it between a silver birch and a holly tree. They're down here, he told his companion.

Tari said nothing, just looked at him thoughtfully. As the noise of churning water faded, they heard voices up ahead.

The shivering leaves gave way to clear, hot sunlight on green sward. In the centre of the clearing was a large scorched patch as if a fire had burned fiercely. The turf was pocked with holes at regular intervals.

The kaerlings camped here, Otta said unnecessarily. I can sense their presence, even now.

Lored and Undine nodded silently in agreement with her. The taku's head gleamed with short reddish stubble and Erl wondered why Lored hadn't shaved his head last eighth day. That was something the late cook of the Jae's household had been insistent on; taku-kevir shaved their heads and jaws every eighth day. Doubt nagged at him. Perhaps Lored wasn't a proper taku-kevir, perhaps he was only pretending. After all, Otta had posed as a kaerling last winter and deceived the Jaes. Did that mean Undine wasn't a proper priestess?

He dismounted and handed the basket of bread to Undine, who was in charge of provisions.

Thank you, Erl. Her clear grey-blue eyes stared into him and he got the distinct feeling she could read his thoughts.

Feeling uneasy again, he turned to check Tari was all right as she dismounted.

Is Lally still with them? The young girl asked the priestess.

Undine shrugged as she slipped the basket inside one of the large oiled skins fastened to her mare's harness. We have to assume she is. We can find no evidence to the contrary.

Erl wanted to put his arm around Tari's shoulders and comfort her. She looked so vulnerable standing there, eyes glistening with tears.

We will find her, Lored said reassuringly.

Only if we can manage to catch up with them. Otta's sharp tones made Erl clench his jaw. At the moment, we're still two weeks behind them.

Some days, Erl really hated his sister.

Chapter Two - Brightly Clad Zoratti

He knew he was dreaming but couldn't wake himself up. He panted hoarsely, seeing his adversary standing before him. They circled each other and he controlled his breathing, aware of the pull in his stomach muscles where she'd punched him. He was furious at himself for missing her neck and only striking her shoulder. If he'd caused her arm to go numb, she wasn't showing it. Neither was she showing any fear. That, in itself, intrigued him. But his orders were clear. Kill.

Her way of moving was familiar, but it confused him. It was as if she knew the patterns he did, but in a different way. She used