‘I thought you were a carpenter’s son?’
‘Aye, I am. And never has an apple fallen further from the tree, I reckon.’
‘Apparently not,’ she said, amused.
Aren couldn’t help a pang of jealousy at the easy way they had with each other. Cade looked up and saw him. ‘Hoy, Aren! Come see what I made.’
Aren took the puzzling lump of wood. He looked at it from all sides. ‘Is it a horse?’ he asked.
‘It’s a she-warg!’ Cade said. ‘Like the one we hunted that time.’
‘Oh! A wild pig, then.’
‘It was a wild pig?’ Fen cried, turning to Cade. ‘You told me it was a she-warg!’
‘It was a big wild pig,’ Cade said sheepishly.
Aren smiled, but their casual joviality felt forced. ‘Cade, will you talk with me?’
Cade had that half-joking smirk on his face he got when he was nervous. ‘That sounds serious.’
Fen slid off the bench and picked up her bow. ‘I should practise. I’m getting rusty.’
Aren gave her a grateful look as she slipped away. Cade shuffled awkwardly in his seat. ‘So …?’
‘So,’ said Aren. It was always hard to start these things. ‘I had a close call yesterday. Really close.’
‘Aye,’ said Cade. ‘You said. You only just gave that watchman the slip. Sounded pretty hairy.’
‘It was,’ said Aren, though that wasn’t the close call he was talking about. ‘And it got me thinking about what we said in the market. If I’d died jumping off that building, or been killed by a watchman … Well, I wouldn’t like that to have been the way we left it.’
Cade nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking the same,’ he said. For once he wasn’t making a joke of it, which Aren was grateful for.
‘After we escaped the camp at Suller’s Bluff, I thought we had the whole world in front of us. We could go somewhere, make a new start. But then we got caught up in Garric’s cause, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted that, but I did want to know about my father so I stayed and … And then I thought we might be able to go back to Shoal Point so it really could be like it was, but …’ He trailed off as he saw the bewildered expression on Cade’s face and realised he was rambling. ‘What do you want?’ he said at last.
Cade looked surprised. ‘Can’t remember the last time you asked me that.’
Aren felt a pang of shame. ‘I’m sorry, Cade. I always called all the shots, didn’t I? Sometimes it’s hard to shake off old habits. But we’re not children any more.’
‘Reckon we ain’t,’ Cade said. He seemed thoughtful for a moment, then raised his head and said firmly ‘I want to see this out. That’s what I want. I want to be part of something. These people are our friends now. Aspects forgive me, I’m even getting fond of Grub, for all that he smells like a donkey’s arse.’
‘You know what that means, though?’ Aren said. ‘You know the Iron Hand will be after us every step of the way, and if they catch us they’ll do worse than kill us? Have you thought about that? Really thought about it? Because this isn’t one of your tales where you know the hero will win because they’re the hero. There’s a good chance we’ll all end up like Osman.’
‘I’ve thought about it,’ said Cade. ‘Thought about it a lot.’
‘Doesn’t it scare you?’
‘Course it scares me. But the idea of ending up back in Shoal Point scares me worse. People like Garric are fighting for something true. Even if I were an actor, like I dreamed, I’d just be telling stories other people wrote down. Here, we’re writing our own!’
Aren couldn’t help a smile at that. Cade was only ever this eloquent when he’d rehearsed it in his head. He had been thinking about it, then, and he made this choice with open eyes. That was all Aren needed to know.
‘I should have listened to you from the start,’ he said.
‘Now you realise,’ said Cade, with a grin.
‘Things are changing, aren’t they? Like you said. But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Maybe … maybe things will be better?’ He was frustrated at how clumsy it sounded when spoken aloud. Why was it so difficult to put feelings into words? ‘All we have to do is stick together. You and me.’
‘Aye,’ said Cade. He was rummaging for words himself, as awkward as Aren when it came to making up. ‘What I said in the market, about Fen … That ain’t fair. Shouldn’t have done that.’
‘It’s all well. You love her.’
‘It ain’t that simple, though. I don’t know if I do.’ Aren had reached across the gap between them, and now Cade was eager to reach back. ‘You don’t say it, but I know what you think. I get caught up in a girl and throw myself at her, like with Astra, and Perla before her, and Chenny, and—’ He saw the smile growing on Aren’s face. ‘Aye, I know, I’m a hopeless case. And how many of them did I kiss? Not a one.’ He shrugged. ‘I was jealous of you and Sora. Didn’t even like her much and I was still jealous. Maybe I just wanted a girl to be mine for once. Reckon sometimes I get tired of being the funny one.’
‘People like you, Cade. You don’t need to try so hard.’
‘Ain’t so easy to shake old habits, though, is it?’
Aren had to give him that.
‘Point is …’ said Cade. ‘Point is, if you like Fen, too … well, may the best man win, that sort of thing.’
Aren laughed. ‘She’s not a prize to be won, Cade. I’m not sure she likes either of us as anything more than friends. If she does, I reckon she’ll tell us.’
‘You know what I mean, though.’
‘I do. And I’m grateful to you for saying it. But listen: it’s you and me, alright? First and always. Let’s not allow a girl to get in the way of that.’
They clasped forearms and shook, and that was an end to it. Aren felt the happy relief of resolution. Apologies started hard, but more often than not they turned out to be easier than expected.
A thought occurred to Aren then. ‘Hoy, did you ever write to your da and ma? To let them know you’re safe?’
Cade looked guilty. ‘Never had the chance. Suppose I could have posted from Wracken Bay, but … you know, me and letters.’
‘Want to do it now? I’ll help you write it. And maybe Mara can post it.’
‘What if the Iron Hand are still watching Shoal Point, though? I mean, they might see the letter.’
‘So? They’ll only know it came from Morgenholme, and I’m pretty sure they know we’re here already.’ In fact, he was certain of it. ‘Come on. You can tell your da you’ve joined the Greycloaks, if you like.’
‘There’s no such thing as the Greycloaks.’
‘Your da doesn’t know that.’
A smile spread across Cade’s face as he considered it. ‘Aye, why not? It ain’t like it matters. I mean, we’re never going back, are we? Not till the Krodans are gone.’
‘No. We’re never going back. Only forward.’
Cade slapped him on the arm, and in that moment, it all felt just as it ever had. ‘Ha! Well, then. Let’s go and write that letter!’
77
‘To our great venture,’ said Mara, glass held high, ‘and to freedom!’
They all raised their glasses to that, and Aren and Cade cheered. Mara sat down and they fell back to eating, except for Grub, who’d never stopped. Tonight was for celebration, and they ate and drank as if their victory was already assured. Tonight, they were seeing off two of their own; one to go to glory, and one to go home.
Mara’s dining room was spotless, grand and thirty years out of date. There were none of the stern, clean Krodan lines here. The curtains were heavy and rich, the walls hung with tapestries and papered with busy designs. A fire burned in an oversized inglenook hearth and the tableware was a mismatched mix of wood, stone, glass and pottery. It was a thoroughly Ossian room, frozen in time on the eve of the country’s fall to the Krodans.
Aren, wine-warmed and full, leaned back contentedly and surveyed the table. Fen was poking fun at Grub, with Cade egging her on. Ma
ra, usually cool and stately, looked excited. Orica and Harod sat side-by-side, Harod eating with precise formality, Orica laughing and joking with everyone around her. Even Keel appeared to be in good spirits; quieter than usual, but more like himself. His choice made, Keel had found some peace.
Garric was across the table from Aren, the man he now knew as Cadrac of Darkwater, the last Dawnwarden. He was drinking little, for he still had work ahead. The revelations about his father had given Aren a lot to think about; but where Garric was concerned, he’d forgiven all. The wrongs visited on Aren felt petty compared to the wrongs Garric had suffered, and yet he’d still risked everything to save the son of his mortal enemy. All because he’d made a promise.
Would Aren have done the same in his shoes? He didn’t know. But he wanted to be the kind of man who would.
‘A moment, if you please!’ Harod called. ‘Milady has something to say.’
‘A song!’ cried Cade as Orica rose from her chair. His cheeks and nose were red with wine.
Grub groaned. ‘If Grub hear that song about whatever it’s about one more time, he going to stab himself in the eye with his fork.’
‘Tsss. Not a song,’ Orica said, smiling at them both. ‘Though you may be out of luck if you want to silence me, my Skarl friend. Neither my song nor I are going anywhere.’
Grub, who was back to gnawing on a ham bone, raised his lip and snarled at her like a dog.
‘Strange fortune brought us together, yes?’ said Orica, addressing them all. ‘But the Ragged Mummer’s ways are often strange. My people are being taken from this land, and none know where or why. I cannot learn any more without help; nor can I turn my back on what is happening here. We do not know what you intend, but we know we must see the Krodans thrown from Ossia if there is to be any hope of helping my people. Your cause has become ours, and so we humbly ask: will you have us?’
‘Aye!’ Cade cried excitedly, then wilted as he realised it probably wasn’t his place to decide. ‘Well, that’s my vote, anyhow.’
Mara was on her feet again. ‘I believe our overenthusiastic friend speaks for us all. There is much work ahead, and we have need of stout hearts and strong minds, sharp wits and sharp swords. You are welcome.’
The others cheered and thumped the table, except Grub. Even Keel clapped. Orica bowed with a flourish, then Harod got up and gave a considerably stiffer bow of his own.
‘Nobody cheered for Grub when Grub joined,’ Grub grumbled, rolling his eyes.
‘Don’t reckon anyone actually asked you to,’ Cade said.
‘Oh!’ said Grub, brightening. ‘Well, that explain it then.’
At last they were all seated again, and Aren smiled at Orica across the table. She smiled back, and her eyes went to his wrist, where Eifann had left his mark. Sardfriend, it said; and so he was.
‘My father used to tell me “After every greeting comes a goodbye,”’ said Keel. He’d drunk a lot, though he wasn’t yet drunk. ‘He never did take much joy in life. I’m not one for farewells, but we’ve seen too much together for me to leave without a word.’ He gathered himself; it wasn’t easy for him to speak like this. ‘My family needs me,’ he said. ‘I have to do right by them, and that means leaving you behind. I’ll see Garric to his destination tonight, and after that I’ll be sailing on the morning tide to Wracken Bay. I won’t be coming back.’
‘One last journey,’ said Garric. ‘We’ll end it side-by-side, as we began.’
Keel nodded gravely and drained his glass.
They offered their condolences and support, and the conversation gradually moved on. The one thing they couldn’t talk about was Garric’s mission, for even though Harod and Orica were with them now, it was too soon to trust them with everything. They’d know it all in a few days, when Garric returned with the Ember Blade.
So Garric would go to Hammerholt alone, and it was Garric’s name that would be sung in years to come. Once that thought had enraged Aren, but no more. The battle ahead would be long and there’d be many opportunities to distinguish himself. He’d have to earn his glory. This was Garric’s tale, not his.
The door to the drawing room opened and Laria hurried in to whisper in Mara’s ear. Her urgency alerted them all, and they looked to Mara for the news.
‘Peace,’ she said as she saw their worried faces. ‘It is nothing ill. Quite the contrary, actually. It seems your druidess friend is awake.’
There was a moment of shocked delight; then, with a screech of chairs, Aren, Cade, Fen and Garric hurried out of the room. Grub, who’d demolished his meal already, reached across to scrape the remains from Aren’s plate onto his own.
78
Aren and Cade burst into Vika’s room to find her sitting up in bed, ruffling the fur at Ruck’s throat, looking thinner than before but otherwise entirely well. Aren cried out with joy at the sight. Only now did he realise how keenly he’d missed her.
They rushed over to hug her, and she laughed in surprise while Ruck whirled about the bed barking. Finally, the hound jumped up on the bed and shoved her muzzle into the circle of their embrace, so as not to be left out.
‘I would have come back earlier if I’d known I’d get such a welcome!’
‘We’re just glad you’re back at all,’ said Aren. The uncertainty of her condition had worn on them these past weeks. Osman’s death was still fresh in their minds, and losing Vika would have been harder still. Her return now felt like a good omen.
Fen had arrived and was standing just inside the doorway, with Garric behind her, a rare smile on his lips.
‘And how are you all?’ Vika asked them. She looked from Aren to Garric and, in that uncanny way she had, she knew something had changed. ‘Much has happened, I see.’
‘You’ll hear it all in time, no doubt,’ Garric said. ‘But we’re all well, more or less.’
‘It’s good to see you, Vika!’ Cade said, and squeezed her again until Ruck licked his cheek and he let her go, flailing at his face with a groan of disgust.
‘She’s just being affectionate,’ Vika told him.
‘I wish her affection didn’t come with so much dribble.’ Cade wiped his cheek on his sleeve.
Fen approached the bed awkwardly. ‘I made this for you while we were on the ship.’ She held out an expertly carved wooden figure, the size of a thumb. It was a likeness of Sarla, the Red-Eyed Child, with her hood far back on her bald head. Even at that small scale, Fen had managed to capture the menacing stare of the Lady of Worms.
‘I asked her to spare you, many times,’ Fen said, embarrassed.
Vika smiled as she took the figure with both hands. ‘And so she did. For Sarla brings mercy as well as death, and sometimes both together.’ She nodded to Fen. ‘My thanks. I will wear it among my charms, to remind me.’
Fen blushed and stepped away.
‘You spoke in strange tongues while you slept,’ Garric told her. ‘Where have you been, in your dreams?’
‘Where have I been?’ Vika said, becoming distant. ‘Aye, there’s a tale. I roamed further into the Shadowlands than ever I’ve gone before. I saw castles in the air that crumbled to rubble even as they rebuilt themselves in new forms. I saw lakes of fire and ice, and beasts that held no shape. I saw cities under a black sun, aswarm with ghosts, and streets that parted before me like waves before the bow of a ship. In time, I came to the gates of Kar Vishnakh, the great citadel that guards the Outsiders in their prison, which hangs suspended by chains over an abyss without end. I knocked upon the gates and was given entrance, to where the Torments walk in clinking robes, and the screams of the tortured echo from the depths.’
‘And what did you learn there,’ Garric asked gravely, ‘among the Torments?’
‘Much and more, and none of it good,’ said Vika, her eyes intense behind her curtain of hair. Ruck whined and put her head on her mistress’s lap. ‘The Divide between this world and the Shadowlands is thinner than it has been since the days of the Second Empire, and it is thinning by the day. This
is no natural waning. Something, somewhere is causing this. Chaos grows, and grows close. Urd shamen are uncovering lost arts in the lowlands. In the south, the chimericists, so long only charlatans and fakes, have learned how to breathe life into their creations. The Theocracy of the Incarnate tightens its grip to the west and the witches of Skara Thun find their scattered bones tell the truth more often than ever before. I fear the dreadknights are only a glimpse of what is to come. Something stirs, and brings the doom of the world with it. We are no longer fighting for Ossia. We are fighting for everything.’
Aren felt a chill seep through him as she spoke, and it seemed to him that the lamps in the room darkened. There was a fervour in her voice and a look of madness in her eye; yet it was impossible not to believe her.
There was a knock at the door and the spell was broken. Laria came in with food and wine for Vika. ‘With compliments of the lady of the house,’ she murmured, eyes downturned, her voice a soft lisp. ‘She hopes you regain your strength soon.’
‘Please send her my thanks,’ said Vika, bright and polite, as if the dire warning of moments before had never been spoken. Laria bowed and hurried out while Vika fed a piece of chicken to Ruck.
‘What does it all mean?’ Fen asked, when Laria was gone.
‘I do not know,’ said Vika. ‘But I know this: the dreadknights must be stopped. The Krodans are meddling with forces they do not understand. They are fools to believe they can control them.’
‘Is there no good news?’ Aren asked.
‘Do not despair,’ said Vika. ‘The battle is far from lost. We have been warned, and forewarned we are forearmed. I have been touched by the taint of Plague’s arrow, and learned from it. I know the nature of our enemy now. The Ember Blade is within our reach, and we still have our champion, who will seize the bright blade and lead us to victory.’ At this, her eyes went to Garric, and Aren saw a zealot’s light there.
Garric grunted. ‘I know nothing of visions,’ he said. ‘But I will bring ruin upon the Krodans, I promise you that.’
They heard footsteps on the stairs and Garric, still in the doorway, looked away to find their source.
The Ember Blade Page 66