The night was cool, and the far-off sound of shouting urged Lysette to hurry along the rocky path. She kept a steady pace nevertheless, not dawdling but not rushing. In truth, her heart wanted to drop her pack and run back to the village, to try even if in vain to help her Granny. But no. She knew it was useless. Her beloved Granny was dead.

  It was not as though death was unknown to her. Granny had always said, “When it’s your time to go and Diole wants you by his side, well that’s that, my Duckling.”

  She turned to look over her shoulder as the scent of smoke caught her attention, and the sight of the rising blaze kindled a fear deep within her. It was the same. She saw this happen. If she had stayed there, she would have burned along with her home. What am I? She stared in horror, watching the shadowed silhouettes of figures gathering around the fire. She turned and sped faster, away from the inferno and the mob. She had to get away. She couldn’t delay, or she risked them finding her and throwing her on the pyre.

  “I’m not evil. I’m not. This is all wrong!” She said under her breath, as though to convince herself.

  “Oh aye, ‘course you aren’t!” a voice from nowhere startled Lysette, and she dropped her basket. An apple rolled out of it, stopping when it hit the boot of a man standing in the shade of a tree. Lysette froze. She did not recognise the voice.

  “Who is there? I-I don’t want any trouble.” She said.

  “Looks like you already found trouble. Shame about your Granny. My condolences, Your Radiance.” The man stepped forward out of the shadows, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. “Never expected to see one such as you here in Thrace.”

  “What did you call me? I don’t understand, what do you mean, one such as me? I’ve lived in Thrace my whole life! I’m as Thracian as they come! Who are you anyway?” Lysette said, stepping back, away from the stranger.

  “You don’t recognise me? But we made such beautiful music together! I suppose you only had eyes for Kipp. He has that effect on people.” The man reached slowly into his pocket, and Lysette took another step back, wondering whether she should run away. What if he had a weapon? He pulled a metal tube from his pocket, put one end of it to his lips, and softly blew. A mourning sound. A flute?

  Lysette squinted in the dark at the man, and then she recognised him. He was one of the pipers in the Mosey troupe who had been playing at the fair. He had the dark features and the strange attire that they all wore. His nose was crooked, and he had kind eyes that crinkled at the corners.

  “Forgive me, I am being rude. My name is Gabe, and I am at your service. You are welcome to travel with us, if you wish. The caravan is waiting just down the way.” He bowed, and waved an arm further down the road. Lysette could barely make out the flicker of a few small lights.

  “But… Why would you help me? Everyone thinks I am evil!”

  “Erimosians are widely regarded with suspicion. Though I suspect you know this. If you aren’t one of us, I’ll eat my left shoe. Well, we look after our own.” Said Gabe, “Besides, with a voice like yours in the troupe, I’d wager we’d do well even in the capital!”

  “Well, I’m not sure about all that, but given that I don’t have anyone else to turn to, I guess I don’t have much choice.”

  “We should probably get a move on, then. We shouldn’t tarry too long when there’s an angry mob looking for you. I’ll introduce you to the others. You’ll like them. Let me carry that, you look exhausted.” Gabe gestured at Lysette’s basket, and she handed it to him.

  “So, you …really aren’t afraid of me? You saw what happened at the fair…”

  “Aye, I saw. I saw you protect everyone within ten feet of you from the pestilence. Thanks for that by the way. My troupe would all be dead if it wasn’t for you. News of the plague will have reached this far by now, surely? Well, it seems to come on in waves. It starts with a few people and livestock getting sick,” said Gabe as they walked together, “Some of them recover, but it’s rare. Then the sickness rears its head again, but this time, it is different. The deaths are sudden, and they happen together, like blowing out a bunch of candles at once.”

  “But that… that doesn’t make sense. I have heard of no sickness like this!”

  “Exactly. It’s not normal. Some are saying it’s the work of the Ingsmyrans. That they have cursed the whole of Ainah with their witchcraft. But really, nobody knows. We have only stayed safe up until now because we stay ahead of it. If we hear rumours of people being ill, we pack up and leave immediately, never mind if we lose out on pay. Ah, here we are.”

  The horses and wagons stood ready to depart, and Gabe climbed up onto the back of the largest of them, before offering a hand to Lysette. Once they were seated in the back of the wagon, and Lysettes belongings safely stowed under a bench, the horses began to trot. A Mosey woman with a round face and a similarly curvy figure sat on the bench opposite.

  “Pearl, this is… Ah. You didn’t actually tell me your name.” Gabe said.

  “Lysette. I’m Lysette. Thank you, for your kindness and hospitality. I fear I will be in your debt, but I will not be making myself a guest among you. I fully expect you to allow me to help with things. I’m a good cook, and I can make remedies and help with healing. I can also be a midwife if one is needed, my Granny was-” Lysette began to ramble, and then choked at mentioning her grandmother, “…she was everything to me.”

  Tears threatened to fall, and Lysette hid her face in her hands. She took a few breaths and then wiped at her eyes. Crying wouldn’t bring her back. Granny wouldn’t want her to mope about. She’d want her to take action.

  “Where did the pestilence start? If I go there, maybe I could find out what caused it.”

  “We couldn’t say. Though it seems to have been worse in the south. I’m sorry about your Granny. If it makes you feel any better, it will have been quick.” Pearl said, a sympathetic frown creasing her brow, “As for helping out with things, that can wait. You’ve been through a lot and you need to rest. Let me look after you at least for a while. Starting with food. You’re probably starving.”

  Pearl opened a strange metal box beside her bench and pulled out a bundle of paper. Unwrapping it, Lysette saw that it contained some cooked meat, juicy and aromatic. It looked to have been seasoned in salt and spices and wrapped up for freshness. Lysette’s mouth began to water as Pearl took a knife from her apron pocket and then cut off a thick slice to hand to her.

  “It’s a Mosey recipe, from the North-western part of Erimos. You might like it. We call this kind of meat Talkas, which is the name of the place from which it originates.”

  Lysette’s stomach rumbled even as the meat passed her lips, and she realised that she was ravenous. The shock of the day’s events had held it at bay but among the relative safety and kind companionship offered to her now, her body was free to complain to her of the lack of food. The meat had a bit of a kick to it, a smoky spice that only served to increase her hunger. She tore into the meat, savouring each bite and then licking her fingers when she had finished. “It’s delicious. Thank you, I really was hungry.”

  The line of caravans rolled through the forest under the guiding light of The Mother, and didn’t stop to make camp until they were well out of sight of the distant plume of rising smoke that they had left behind them. Inside the last of the wagons, Lysette felt her eyes getting heavy, and the steady creaking of the wheels lulled her into a gentle half-sleep.

  The creaking of the wagons echoed the distant flapping of fabrics that surrounded her in the dream. Part of Lysette remained aware that she had somehow fallen asleep, and that she was now dreaming. She had no control over what she was doing, just that what she was doing in the dream was right and that somehow, this was important.

  A dark, scruffy boy stood stiffly beside her on the edge of a ravine, and looked at her with a panicked expression. The boy seemed to be in a deep terror, but when her eyes met his, he gave her the look that she had all too often seen in her strange dreams. Admiration, obedience, and a large portion of fear. She didn’t like it. It made her feel wrong. But she inwardly shrugged it off, allowing the dream to fill her, letting herself fall further into the role she was watching these events through the eyes of.

  “Get to Paliathese. I will meet you there.”

  The voice that came from her was not her own, but this was not the first time that this had happened in one of Lysette’s dreams, so she didn’t panic. She let the dream wash over her and sank into the vibrant scents and colours that enveloped her. Two more figures joined her at the edge of the ravine, a ruggedly handsome man and another young boy, this one skinny with a thin face.

  “Dremos. You must do this. Bring the boys to the capital. Do not resist me on this.”

  “But Your Radiance, I am sworn to protect you.” The man replied, but then winced as though in pain. “Yes, Your Radiance.”

  The colourful silks she wore whipped violently around her as a sudden gust of wind picked up. The dream began to fade, and the shocked face of the scruffy boy was the last thing she saw clearly, her painted hand reaching out toward him as she fell over the edge of the cliff.

  Lysette woke to a gentle tapping on her shoulder. She rubbed her eyes blearily, for a moment not knowing where she was. Then she remembered. The fair. Granny died, and her home had burned. She had run away, and met the Mosey travellers.

  “Gabe? Did we stop moving?”

  “Yes, I didn’t want to wake you while we set up camp for the night, you looked like you needed the rest. Pearl’s done some cooking and we’ve got a nice fire going. Come, sit and have some food and warm up. You can meet the others.” Gabe gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder and climbed out of the wagon, offering her his hand to help her down once he was on the ground.

  The wagons had been set up in a loose circle around a large central fire, over which a huge cauldron hung, bubbling. The sweet and spicy scent of the food filled the clearing with a warm aroma, and there were around thirty figures sat around the fire. Some warmed their hands, others ate from wooden bowls, and others chatted casually. Lysette froze where she stood. They were not speaking Thracian, but she understood every word.

  She realised in shock as she stood agape at the strangers that they spoke the language she had come to know from her dreams.

  “It’s alright, they don’t bite. Come, sit with us. Everyone, this is Lysette. Lysette, this is the rest of the troupe. We are four families that travelled here just before the war broke out back home, and we decided to stay in Thrace. We’ve been travelling the country, performing, and selling goods since then.” Gabe said, “Come, you already met Pearl, Kipp is over there, you met him on the stage. That’s Jason next to him, his brother. He’s the one that makes any deals for us. Great head for money, that one.”

  Lysette followed Gabe to sit on one of the benches that had been set in a wide circle around the cooking fire. The many faces around the fire smiled back at Lysette, and though she was surrounded by foreign and strange people, she somehow felt more at home there with them than she had ever felt with the villagers of Ardenne. It was bittersweet, finding such friends when the loss of her beloved Granny still scratched at her eyes.

  Gabe beckoned to a young girl who stood by Pearl, who had been spooning stew into bowls for the others. She shyly walked over, carrying two hot bowls of food, offered one to Lysette, and sat beside her to eat the other.

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  “This is Sanna. She is the Mystic of our group. She’s very talented at reading, and she’s the main reason we have been able to stay one step ahead of the sickness for so long. If she reads someone and they are thinking about any family members that are sick, or animals that died unexpectedly, we leave. Now that we have you with us, it will be even easier.”

  “I don’t… I don’t understand. What do you mean by reading?” asked Lysette.

  “She doesn’t know, Gabe.” The girl had a quiet voice, and a calmness that surrounded her. Her hair was shorn close to the head, but it did not make her look masculine. It only served to emphasise her petite features and large, expressive eyes.

  “What don’t I know?”

  “You are like me, but you are also unlike me. You are a Mystic, but you are also so much more than that. I suspect that you have had your abilities for a long time and with no one to train you and explain that it is not to be feared, you have shut out as much of it as possible.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t have any abilities, other than my honest ability with medicines and herbs. I… I’m no witch!”

  Sanna sighed, and shook her head. “Did I accuse you of being a witch? You are not a witch and neither am I. We were both, however, born with certain abilities. It has nothing to do with anything sinister. It is part of your heritage.”

  Lysette stared into her bowl, the scent of spices tickling her nostrils. “I don’t really know my heritage. My mother died in childbirth. But Granny raised me as a good Thracian, and a follower of Diole.”

  “You can still have your beliefs. Nobody will take them from you. It doesn’t change who you are. You are still you, Lysette. But you are also this as well. It is clear that at least one of your parents was a Mystic. You are too powerful for it to have been a distant ancestor.”

  “How can you tell that? We have only just met.”

  “Reading is my particular talent. But I can read very little from you. It comes through in small patches of thought. You probably don’t even realise you are doing it, but you are blocking me. You would have to be very strong to do that,” Her eyes lowered to Lysette’s neck, where the hated mark peeked out from the high collar of her blouse, “and then there is that. You’re what we Erimosians would call an ‘Ascended’ Mystic. That mark only appears on those who have reached Ascension. In our country, years ago you would have been worshipped as a Goddess. Now though... It is perhaps lucky that you were not born there.”

  “You should not say such things, I am no Goddess. Blessed be the name of Diole, may he watch over us and deliver us into the light.” Lysette’s heart beat faster, Sanna’s words suggesting things that were familiar to her in her most private dreams, that she had never dared to talk about before. It was blasphemy! Lysette closed her eyes as she repeated her prayer again.

  “Calm yourself. If you say you are not so, then I will not bring it up again. Like I said, no one will stop you from practising the beliefs you were raised with. However, you should learn how to control your talents. Most Mystics learn from their parents, or other Mystics.” said Sanna, “You have had to teach yourself control, which is impressive, but you seem to have just suppressed your abilities. That can be dangerous. If you don’t learn to use your abilities, and then you become stressed… You could go mad. Or, worse, make everyone around you go mad.”

  “What do you mean by ...abilities?”

  “Well, they vary from person to person. Most Mystics have some form of either Pre-cognition or Post-cognition. We see visions of the events that happen to those in our direct bloodline.” Sanna said, “There are other abilities that can emerge, such as telepathy, but that is the most common one. The Ascended, who are Mystics with that mark somewhere on their body, have much more variety in how their powers manifest. So tell me, Lysette, do you dream?”

  “I- I don’t know what you mean. Everyone has dreams.” Lysette tried not to look the young girl in the eyes. So much of what Sanna had been saying made sense to her, though she didn’t want to admit it.

  “Hey, Sanna, let Lysette relax and get used to us before you get started with all that. The poor girl has been through a lot tonight. Come Lysette, we have a troupe tradition, and if you are to join us you should be part of it. It is story time.” said Gabe.

  “Story time?”

  “I’ll go first, if you like. We take turns to tell stories around the fire. I’d love to hear what stories you have for us.” Gabe turned to the others and clapped his hands for attention, “We have a newcomer to our little family, and so, we should welcome her to our number with our tales, and hear what stories she has to tell. Welcome, Lysette!”

  The Mosey troupe clapped and cheered at this, then a hush settled over the group, awaiting the start of Gabe’s tale. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the yawns of the younger children. Lysette thought they should really be asleep by this time, but it wasn’t her place to judge how others raised their families.

  “I will tell you a tale, and it is one that you have all heard before, but Lysette likely has not. So this is told mostly for her benefit. Where should I start… Ah, yes. Once, there was a great Empire. Not the Erimosian Empire, though that was indeed great.” Gabe paused for effect, “The Empire I speak of came long before the Erimosian Empire was even an inkling of a thought on anyone’s mind.”

  A couple of people groaned, clearly familiar with this story, but they quieted at a sharp look from Gabe. Clearly, stories were to be respected, even after a thousand retellings. The smoke from the fire made Lysette’s eyes itchy, and she rubbed at them, watching Gabe taking centre stage in the middle of the circle. The bowl of stew warmed her hands and her belly as she slowly ate, listening.

  “This great civilisation was a mighty and bountiful people who travelled to Ainah over the clouds from another world in the sky. They sailed here in a glittering ship as big as a city, whose hull was made from carved jewels, and its sails woven of gold thread. Their home beyond our skies had been destroyed, burned in fire. Ainah was a chance for a new beginning.”

  Lysette listened eagerly to the story. Where were the valiant princes? The fair princesses? The evil wizards? This was unlike any story she had read in a book. Ships sailing from other worlds in the clouds? Ancient civilisations lost to flames? There was something fresh and exciting about this story, yet somehow familiar. Lysette was enraptured.

  Gabe’s tale twisted and turned, and his telling of it was so vibrant that Lysette almost saw the events unfold along with his words and actions. His tone of voice, at one moment slow, deliberate, and hushed quiet, the next moment his words rushed out in an excited torrent.

  The story came to a climax, and Lysette smiled in delight at the twist ending. It actually surprised her! Stories never surprised her. They were all the same, but this one was something else. She wished it were in a book so that she could keep it and read it over and over until the pages wore out. A quiet rose up around the crackle of the fire, and Gabe turned to Lysette.

  “Your turn. Everyone has at least one story. Let’s hear one of yours.”

  _______________________________________________________________

  The first thing that Lathan noticed about Jeppe was the smell. He and Ethan had been given leave to wander in the markets, which were crowded, noisy, and surprisingly dirty. Lathan had not expected the muck. He had thought that Jeppe being a big important city, it would have had clean streets and neatly organised stalls and fancy shops.

  The reality surrounding him was quite different. The paved streets were not quite wide enough for beasts of burden, and yet the townsfolk still found some way to use them, sometimes bumping into the various market stalls and carts as they squeezed past. These beasts sometimes dropped their mess in the middle of the market, and it seemed as though nobody was taking it upon themselves to clean it up, leaving it to fester in the sun.

  The scent of animal dung trodden into the street mixed with the smell of the goods being sold at the market. Fish seemed the most common of the wares offered, which added its own pungent aroma into the mix. That alone wouldn’t have bothered Lathan too much, as growing up on the coast meant that fish was the favoured dish, however it seemed that the popular thing in the town was smoking pipe tobacco. Everyone present had a lit pipe in their mouth, or was preparing one to be lit. Even the women and some of the children were smoking the smelly stuff.

  “It stinks here,” Ethan wrinkled his nose, “I thought I might find some nice ingredients but there’s no way I’m eating anything from here. It’ll all taste like smoke and manure!”

  “Wonder why everyone here smokes? Maybe it’s so they don’t smell it as much?”

  “Well I think it’s horrid. I’m going to go and see if any of the shops are less stinky, maybe the food inside will be better,” said Ethan, “We should probably stay together though. We don’t know our way around, and I don’t much like the idea of getting lost on my own.”

  “I’ll come with you, anywhere’s got to be better than this. I feel like my nose is going to fall off.” Lathan said.

  The boys pushed their way through the busy market street and into a side alley. The narrow passage being cool and sheltered from the sun, the stench did not seem to be as pervasive here. Lathan let out a relieved breath. What an awful place this was. Were all cities like this?

  “I don’t like it here. I don’t like the smell, and there’s too many people. I feel like a squashed bean.”

  “We can go back to the inn if you want? Or go visit the servants in the camp? They’ve probably got fires going and gotten the tents up by now. Although… you’ll have to get used to being in places like this if we are really going to the capital. It’s way bigger than this little town.”

  “Bigger? Little town? But it’s so much bigger than Crabton Port! How much bigger can someplace be?” Lathan said. Ethan laughed at that, and reached up to ruffle Lathan’s hair.

  “Use that imagination of yours. Paliathese isn’t just any city. It’s almost as big as some of the countries in the Empire. It has the places where all the Ascended live, and you can bet they’ll have big fancy houses. On top of that, people come from all over the world to trade there.”

  “Ugh, I feel sick just thinking about it. I hope it doesn’t smell as bad as it does here.”

  “I’m sure it’s probably a very clean place. The Gods wouldn’t like it being so dirty. Speaking of dirt, we should find somewhere to wash our feet. I’m sure I’ve gotten dung in my sandals.”

  “Oh yuck, so have I!”

  Lathan looked around the alleyway for a puddle, an animal trough, or a bucket of water to use, but saw nothing like that. He did however feel a prickle up his neck, and an instinctive pull in his chest that told him that they were no longer alone. He frowned, and let himself draw power from the crystal hanging underneath his shirt as he had been instructed by Dremos.

  “Well, shall we go to the inn or the camp? Should be able to get clean when we get there… What’s wrong?”

  Lightning-fast, Lathan pushed his brother out of the way of a rock that had been flying for his face, and whirled around to see who had thrown it. A man, tall and knock-kneed, stepped out from around the corner. Another man, stocky and pig-nosed, blocked the opposite end of the alley, with a gap-toothed grin that spoke of danger.

  “What have we got here, Barri? Don’t recognise these ones, must be visiting or ran away from one of the villages. Reckon we could sell ‘em?”

  “Fetch a good price, the big one. Army won’t want the skinny one though. Maybe the brothel. He’s got a sweet little face.”

  “Ethan, get behind me.” Lathan motioned to his brother to stand with his back against the stone wall of the tall building, and put himself in a fighting stance, the warmth of the Power filling him up like an empty vessel.

  “Lathan, you can’t… You’ve not been in a real fight before.” Ethan whispered over his shoulder. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Just stay behind me. It’ll be alright. They won’t touch you.”

  The pig nosed man approached with the slow self assurance of a lazy predator, but there was something clumsy in his bearing. His feet splayed outwards ever-so slightly, his belly was so round that his arms were perpetually stuck outwards, and he almost waddled as he advanced on the boys. The tall man laughed, clearly feeling confident that his brutish companion had the upper hand.

  “Hah, aren’t you a feisty one. You should know though, it’s no use fighting. It’ll be worse for you if you do, brat!” The knock-kneed man came closer, and took a small knife from his pocket.

  Miserable brat. Worm. Little rat. Layabout. Worthless lazy scum.

  Lathan shook his head to get rid of his Father’s words, and tried to focus on the men. He took in their posture and saw where all their weaknesses were, but as they got closer and closer, all he could feel was the ringing of his blood in his ears and his heart in his throat. Would they look like Father if he killed them, their blood running onto the dirty cobbles and mingling with the dirt? Would he see Father’s face in their mangled flesh?

  He realised that he had stopped breathing, and took in a gasp of air, before springing into action. Moving quicker than he had thought possible, he spun, put both arms around Ethan’s chest, and jumped, straight upwards. Below him, he heard the sounds of the city and the bewildered shouts of the two goons get further, more distant. He was flying. He had jumped up almost on instinct, to get away from the prospect of violence, and now was soaring high over the rooftops.

  “Waaaagh!” Ethan screamed over Lathan’s shoulder, as they rose, and then began to fall again towards the ground.

  Lathan twisted in the air so that he would hit the ground first, hoping to cushion the fall for his brother, and seconds later they landed in the middle of the busy marketplace, cobblestones, dirt, fish and shards of broken market stalls shattering and raining down on the townspeople. Lathan stood up and brushed the splinters and stones off himself, before picking his brother up and checking him over. Ethan had fainted, but he seemed to miraculously be free of serious injuries. A long cut on his eyebrow was a bit worrying, and he was sure he’d probably have bruises, but nothing was bent the wrong way and no bones were sticking out, so Lathan was hopeful that he would recover.

  The market stall owners and customers stood agape in silence for barely the length of a breath, before erupting into angry chaos around the boys. Lathan threw his brother over his shoulder again, and tried in vain to push through the mob.

  “What’re you doing, jumping off of the roof like that? Might’ve fell on someone, you pair of halfwits!”

  “He knocked my stall over and broke it! Look, my apples are all mashed to a pulp now.”

  “Your apples are always bruised anyway Berfa… But how’s he managed to break the cobblestones when there's barely a scratch on him?”

  “Nevermind that, my awning ripped. He fell right through it. They’d better pay for this.”

  Lathan felt the crowd closing in on him, the scent of stale smoke wafting from the mouth of the closest stall owner made his stomach turn. Spotting an opening between two market goers, he gripped his brother tight and ran.