Bloodkin (Jaseth of Jaelshead) Read online

  Copyright © 2013 Cathy Ashford

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1482339536

  ISBN 13: 9781482339536

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-63003-777-2

  CONTENTS

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Part Two

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Part Three

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Part Four

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Dedicated to the people of Christchurch and our memories of February 22nd 2011 For everything it took away and everything it gave

  594 A.L.

  guess nobody knows before it happens, when a particular day is going to alter the course of your life forever. There was certainly nothing noticeably auspicious about this particular afternoon. The air was soupy with the rising smells of fallen fruit and warm grass as the ripe, late-summer sun eased its way over the town of Jaelshead below and down towards the western plains.

  I wasn’t hiding per se, out in the orchard beside the Lord’s Manor where I happened to live; procrastinating, most definitely, but I was eighteen! Who would I be hiding from? Well, my father for a start, although I suspected he would be rather too busy to care, and perhaps my mother or possibly any one of the huge retinue of hangers-on that seemed to be necessary to the running of the Lord’s household. All of whom seemed to have a suspiciously determined interest in the activities of the heir. Jaelshead wasn’t even particularly big, and certainly not particularly important, squished unceremoniously at the beginning of the foothills of the Rhye Mountains in the far east corner of the country. The closest thing to excitement was one of the Capitols, Lille, which lay less than two weeks’ ride down the highway that ran beside the Jael River. The Monarch, the Advisor and their court resided in Lille every fourth year, and I had overheard some terrifyingly thrilling stories about the place.

  But I was never even likely to visit.

  No, I had two more years of study before I began my ten-year joint Lordship with my father. All this before he would retire and I would govern the entire Jaelshead district by myself until my eldest child reached their maturity at age twenty.

  Well, that was the plan anyway.

  It was this eldest child bit that was rather occupying my mind as I lay on my back in the shade of a pear tree, listening to the racket of bees and cicadas – alert for any moving into to my immediate proximity. Apparently it was almost time to start thinking of marriage, as my father had started hinting at. Custom dictated that I marry a nice girl from the surrounding area who could quickly provide me with heirs. And the earlier I wanted to retire – the thought of years of demanding Lordship made me a little panicky – the earlier this chain of events had to be set in motion.

  The problem was that I didn’t even know any nice girls from the surrounding area. I had private tutors, and so had never been to school in the town, and the girls who lived further out in the plains… Well, my father had also hinted that she had to be a nice girl of good breeding. Which I suppose meant a daughter of one of the leaders of the small local Guilds or something, none of whom I knew. What’s more, at the town fairs or when our family had to be present for one of the Temple festivals, all the local girls I had seen blushed and giggled at me. Luckily none had ever bothered to start a conversation, because I would have no idea what to say.

  And as for this heirs business…

  Sick of being poked in the back by blunt grass stalks, I rolled over and opened my eyes to see a figure in a heavy black robe squeeze through the last of the cottages on the outskirts of town and start on the narrow road that led through the grape vines and up to the Manor. I wondered idly if he was hot – I assumed it was a he; he looked rather tall, even from this distance – I was warm in the shade in only my light summer casuals. In fact, he must have been terrifically hot as he moved quickly, loping even, up the steep path to the low rise on which our house was built.

  Visitors were not uncommon at the Manor: my father did most of his business in his study or the large reception hall directly across the courtyard from the gate. Most visitors were either poor supplicants, obvious in their poverty or disability or local farmers and craftsmen, bringing their taxes and often gifts to try and win favour. Less frequently came the emissaries or other political figures that arrived with much fanfare and strings of weary horses to stable – mostly to wrangle over petty border disputes or some other minor grievance.

  The figure in the black robe was obviously quite, quite different.

  He clearly couldn’t have travelled far because even from here I could see the dust of the road hadn’t touched his pristine garment. I sat up on my knees to watch as he paused, seemingly to marvel at the huge lamppost that stood at the far edge of the orchard to mark the beginning of the family’s private land. He must have been using stilts or wearing some other high-heeled contraption, because the top of his hooded head came up almost to the top of the lamp. Which I know is high, because my head fits just under the crossbar, and I have only recently grown taller than my father who everyone is the tallest man in the Jaelshead region.

  So all in all, a rather odd character to be approaching the Lord’s Manor so boldly.

  I supposed this called for some heirly duties, so I stood and bent down to try and brush as much of the incriminating grass from my knees. When I straightened up, the tall figure in the black robe had turned from the lamppost and was staring directly at me. Then he stepped unerringly around the trees in my direction, clearly not wearing stilts or some other high-heeled contraption. The thought of running away may possibly have crossed my mind, but adults don’t run away, especially when they are Lord’s heir of the district, even when approached by some sort of giant monster with – I could see his face under the hood now – grey skin, huge red eyes and a few wisps of colourless hair.

  The monster stopped just before me, and peered down for a moment before blinking and extending his hand.

  “I presume you’re Jaseth.”

  “My name is Ϛaioћлeжa Ұлeßжa. Though I understand that Nea’thi is a difficult language for Humans to pronounce, so you can call me Charlie,” he beamed.

  Charlie.

  I realised my eyebrows were so high with disbelief they were in danger of departing my face altogether. With some effort I wrestled them back down and shook the big grey hand.

  “I am a Mentor of the Ұiờ Enclave chapter of the Nea’thi Guild of Education,” he continued, dropping my hand. “And I am here to request the honour of training you in the use of your Hầұeӣ, what I believe Humans call Nea’thi Magic.”

  I giggled. Actually giggled like a girl. In front of a very large not-human who wanted to teach me about magic.

  There was clearly something terribly wrong with this Charlie character.

 
“But I’m a Human. How could I possibly do Nea’thi Magic?”

  “Oh! But you know about the Nea’thi-Blood?”

  “Come on, that’s not even—”

  “Ah mate,” he broke in gently, “nearly every single Human alive in this part of the world has a percentage of Nea’thi blood running through their veins. Sometimes by coincidences of breeding that percentage is high enough for the Human to have access to their Hầұeӣ. Humans like you.” And he smiled, as if bestowing a gift.

  “Bollocks.” Charlie looked at me in surprise. I was suddenly grumpy. “You’ve gone wrong, mate. I’m the bloody Lord’s heir. I don’t have grey skin, I don’t have white hair, I don’t have red eyes.” I was quite tall, but I didn’t need to mention that. “And I certainly can’t do bloody magic.”

  The smile fled from his face in disappointment. “But they told me you’d be here. And you’re definitely him, I can…” Charlie hesitated uncertainly, then looked up. “Fire. You can make fire.” Wow. Didn’t expect that.

  “Look, no, those fires had nothing to do with me, they just… happened…” I trailed off.

  The Nea’thi was grinning down at me happily. “And you think fires just magically start?” His eyes were wide with feigned innocence.

  And at that, of course, he had me.

  Charlie insisted I show him around the grounds before taking him inside to meet my parents. This was decidedly against protocol, but I figured I was old enough to entertain my own guests, and besides, he was Nea’thi, surely the rules didn’t apply?

  He suggested that we start south through the orchard, away from the house. When we reached it, I opened the gate for him that led into the forest proper, but he motioned me through first.

  “This is brilliant!” He was bent and examining the gates’ latch. “I’ve never seen any like this before!” He was poking at the spring mechanism that prevented the gate slipping open. “I bet this spring mechanism here,” poke poke, “it stops the gate slipping open!” He grinned at me so proudly I realised that this Charlie person couldn’t have been much older than me, the way he was prancing about like an excited puppy.

  “Yeah, my father made it. Well, he got the local smith to; he always has these little research and development projects.” Charlie narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly as he studied me for the briefest of seconds. Had there been a trace of bitterness in my voice? Then he shrugged and grinned again.

  “Ahh, Human innovation. You’re a crazy bunch, to be sure, but your ideas…” he shook his head a bit ruefully. Then he closed the gate and with a gurgle of laughter bounded past me into the forest, shouting over his shoulder “Come on Jaseth, show me some stuff!”

  We stopped when we reached the Jael River. It was little more than an overgrown stream as it ran through our forest, deep enough in places, but narrow, bubbling over mossy stones.

  “Is it warm?” asked Charlie as he plonked himself down on a rock.

  “Why? Feel like a swim?”

  “Heh, I do love a good soak, but this would probably be far too cold for me.”

  It was dim in the forest underneath the thick canopy of leaves, of oak and ash and hazel. The sun glittered through in tiny patches as it stretched westward, but the air was still and quiet, save for the occasional trill of songbirds and the bubbling of the river.

  He smiled at my questioning face. “We Nea’thi feel the cold,” he explained. “Home – the Enclaves where we grow up – is quite deep underground. Warm all year round, and we’ve got the best thermal pools…” he added with a sigh. Well, that explained the heavy robe, I suppose. “I’d take you there one day,” he went on and my face lit up – a trip to a Nea’thi city would be awesome! “But I believe Humans tend to find it rather uncomfortable down there, too hot and dark.” My expression must have been thoroughly disappointed because he added “Well, we’ve had thousands of years to adapt! And there are a few smaller Nea’thi villages that are closer to the surface; they might be better suited to a visit.” His smile was apologetic. “But wait until we get to Lille, that’s where the excitement happens!” He jumped up from his rock. “Come on, show me the gardens. Then I guess we had better go talk to your parents!”

  We tramped back towards the house, skirting the orchard until we came to a path lined with cherry trees that led to the rear of the garden. Charlie wanted to know the names of everything and got terribly excited when I mentioned the cherry trees, bounding off to peer into the lower branches. His excitement waned when I explained they were only of the ornamental variety.

  “Then what’s the point?

  “Well, in springtime they have lots of flowers, pink and white. It’s quite pretty,” I offered lamely.

  Charlie laughed. “That’s good enough for me!” and he knelt briefly to inspect the gravel that covered the path. At the end of the cherry grove the path branched evenly around a bed of roses, their flowers looking a little the worse for wear at the end of the summer, but Charlie paused to bend and lift a head of blooms to his nose. “Lovely aren’t they?” he called, taking the right-hand branch of the fork around the roses and forcing me to hurry to reach him.

  Catching his enthusiasm, I drew Charlie through the gap in the hedge that was even taller than him and out onto the lawn. It was a chamomile lawn, recently mowed, with four ancient yew trees, one at each corner. Charlie took a few steps onto the lawn and sniffed, looking at me questioningly.

  “This isn’t grass, is it?” he asked, a bit perplexed.

  I had to laugh at his confusion. “No, it’s not, it’s chamomile. It, er, smells nice. When you walk on it. See?”

  He flashed me a delighted smile and crouched, pressing the lawn with his hand and leaning down to sniff. “A fragrant lawn! Brilliant!”

  Charlie pranced over the lawn to the pond that lay beyond, on the far side of the house, and I had to explain how we had diverted a stream from the Jael to feed it. We found a bench on the side of the pond, overhung by weeping willows, and he sat with a happy sigh.

  “What a marvellous place you have here Jas! So much beauty, so much life!” He gazed back across the lawn at the rather imposing pale stone manor. I sighed, our house and grounds tended to have this effect on visitors. In fact, most everything about the manor and its grounds were designed to have this effect on people, to impress upon them our status.

  “Yeah, I suppose. It’s nice enough in its way.”

  Charlie laughed knowingly. “But it’s a bit, ah, rural for a young man such as yourself?” I nodded. “Don’t worry kiddo, there’s plenty of excitement where we’re going!”

  “Hmph, anywhere has got to be more exciting than here.”

  With a chuckle, Charlie was up, dragging me round the corner to the potager, lined with hazelnut trees and full of the large raised beds for the vegetables that kept our household fed. I hurried Charlie past, aware that the sun was slipping low on the horizon and I was suddenly nervous. What on earth would my parents think of this bizarre visitor, and the even more bizarre idea that he wanted to train me in magic. They couldn’t possibly stop me, surely. There were laws saying that Nea’thi-Bloods had to be trained, weren’t there? I struggled to remember classes I had had with my legal tutor, classes that hadn’t seemed particularly important at the time. I mean, untrained Nea’thi-Bloods were supposed to be dangerous. I could remember enough incidents in recent years, little fires that seemed to occur without reason whenever I had been provoked to anger or upset by the rules and restrictions placed on me, the sole heir. I had always maintained my innocence when these were blamed on me – I had never actually lit any of them. But if what Charlie said was right, maybe… Oh hell, maybe they had been me.

  We passed the stables on our right and turned, walking around the side of the manor until we stood before the imposing iron gate that enclosed the courtyard.

  “Well, here we are, I guess,” I muttered, gesturing at the gate.

  “Oof!” Charlie let out a huge breath. “It’s a bit scary, isn’t it?” I confirmed
with a doleful nod. “Come on, let me do the talking. I’ve had training in convincing the parents of Nea’thi-Bloods that Mentoring is the best possible idea. How hard can it be?”

  A small group had gathered in the courtyard, including, to my dismay, my mother and father. The watchman opened the gate and ushered us inside. Charlie, seemingly without hesitation walked straight up to my father, bowed deeply and extended his hand.

  “My name is Ϛaioћлeжa Ұлeßжa of the Ұiờ Enclave. Although I understand that Nea’thi is a difficult language for Humans to pronounce, so you can call me Charlie.”

  I had been sixteen the night of the worst unexplained fire at Jaelshead Manor.

  My parents hadn’t spoken of it in front of me, but I had overheard that because this was election year a party of Nea’thi had come to assess likely Candidates for the position of King or Queen.

  Upon the Leaving, in their infinite, non-Human wisdom, the Nea’thi had instituted a new political system that swept away the old order and had come to be embraced for its efficiency and fairness. Candidates between the ages of twenty and twenty-six were selected by groups of Nea’thi travelling around the country to be put forward for election in a nation-wide ballot that took place at the end of every fourth year. The winning Candidate would then have an Advisor of the opposite sex chosen for them, also by the Nea’thi, based upon temperament and probably some other arcane methods, whose age and wisdom would serve to temper the lofty goals of the young Monarch. They then ruled together, presiding over the rest of parliament.