Winter Be My Shield

by Spurrier, Jo

  From behind the curtain there came a thump and a hiss of indrawn breath and then what sounded like a shelf giving way with a crash and clatter of breaking crockery.

  ‘Isidro!’ Sierra and Mira both dived through the curtain to see Isidro on his knees on the floor, surrounded by the shards of broken bowls and a small puddle of burning oil from a shattered lamp that had spilled onto the grass mat on the floor.

  Sierra dropped the bundle and smothered the flames with a blanket of power that manifested as a tangled net of lightning. Then she summoned a globe of light and tossed it into the air to illuminate the chamber. Mira had crouched at Isidro’s side but as Sierra went to do the same Mira shot her a look of such ferocious hostility that Sierra hesitated and hung back.

  ‘Issey, what happened?’ Mira said.

  Isidro shook his head and the movement made him sway so violently that Sierra steadied his shoulder in case he slumped onto the broken shards of pottery. ‘Here,’ she said, ‘sit on the bench. We’ll help you up.’

  He was so unsteady that it was difficult to help him without jostling his arm and hurting him further, but after a few moments Sierra and Mira got him lying on his furs, only to have him try to sit up again.

  ‘No, stay where you are,’ Sierra said, catching his good hand in hers and setting the other on his chest to keep him down.

  He tried to push her hands away. ‘I’m getting up, curse it.’

  Mira went to the door and leaned out past the curtain. ‘You there!’ she said to someone passing by. ‘Find Rhia, the physician who came with us last night — the fair-haired foreigner. Have her attend upon us at once.’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  ‘And send someone in to clear up this mess!’ Mira called after them as Sierra heard footsteps hurrying away.

  A moment later Cam ducked through the curtain carrying a tray with an assortment of rattling vessels and bowls. ‘What in the Black Sun’s name is going on?’

  ‘He is not well enough to ride,’ Rhia said.

  ‘Just tie me to the saddle,’ Isidro mumbled. ‘I’ll manage.’ He had covered his eyes with his good hand. Sierra moved her globe of light so that it didn’t shine in his face, but even the glare of it sent stabbing pains through his head. She felt an echo of it in her own skull, diffused by power into a soft, golden fog.

  ‘You will not,’ Rhia said. ‘You are feverish. Someone build up the fire. I need hot water and more light.’

  Sierra created another small globe and held it out to them. Rhia and Mira both recoiled from it as though she were offering them a live wasp, but with a little growl of irritation Cam took it from her and held it so Rhia could see to rummage through her medicine chest.

  Sitting back on her heels, Mira drew herself up. ‘Can’t you do anything for him?’ she said to Sierra.

  Sierra shook her head. ‘All I can do is ease pain and that’s not the problem here.’ She saw Isidro’s packs shoved back against the wall and pulled them over to rummage through until she found the enchantments Kell had made.

  ‘He is exhausted,’ Rhia said. ‘There is no cure but rest.’ She glanced up from mixing medicaments together in a bowl and curled her lip at the sight of stones in Sierra’s hand. ‘Not those wretched things again!’

  ‘They’ll help him,’ Sierra said.

  ‘What are they?’ Mira asked, frowning.

  ‘Enchantments Kell makes for his prisoners,’ Sierra said. ‘They make sure the wounds don’t kill them before he’s done with them.’ Isidro raised his left hand so she could tie the cord around his wrist. His skin was cold and he trembled with the effort.

  ‘Well,’ Mira said, ‘at the risk of sounding callous, we have to make a decision. Ardamon says the men are ready to ride and the demons-cursed apprentice is getting further away from us with every moment. Perhaps a sled —’

  ‘No,’ Rhia said. ‘He must rest undisturbed and it will take some days for him to recover. He must stay here.’

  ‘He can’t,’ Sierra said. ‘It’s not safe. The Akharian Legions are heading this way —’

  ‘They’re weeks away at the least,’ Mira said. ‘My uncle and his men will be here long before they will.’

  ‘And we can’t afford to let Rasten get away from us now,’ Cam said. ‘I’m sorry, Issey, but she’s right. We’ll have to leave you here.’

  Isidro closed his eyes and nodded. The words must pain him, Sierra thought. He had been fighting since his capture to maintain his independence and keep his injuries from changing his life completely. To be told now he was too weak, too vulnerable, too much of a liability to go with them, must have burned like poison.

  ‘So you will,’ he said, after a moment. ‘Do what you have to.’

  Sierra shook her head. ‘If the Akharians come he’ll be defenceless.’

  ‘But they’re miles away,’ Mira insisted.

  ‘They’ve already come further than you think,’ Sierra said.

  ‘We’ve no proof of that,’ Mira said. ‘You may well have fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing.’

  Sierra clenched her fists as her power flared along with her anger.

  ‘I saw it too, Mira,’ Isidro said.

  Mira tossed her head. ‘Well then. I’ll speak to Ardamon and leave a couple of men here with you. Once you’re well enough to ride, they’ll escort you to Terundel to meet up with us again.’ She turned to Cam. ‘Will that satisfy you?

  He gave a sigh of relief and nodded.

  ‘But what if that’s not enough?’ Sierra said. ‘Rasten ran into those scouts only a few days ago —’

  Watching her with narrowed eyes, Mira cut her off. ‘He’s ill and in pain, and pushing on now could well kill him, but you want to take him with us anyway? Do you care about him at all? Or is it just that you don’t want to lose this little feast of power?’

  ‘Black Sun take you!’ Sierra leapt to her feet and the sudden pulse of anger sent her power spilling over and erupting in a shower of crazed blue sparks that rippled over her skin and rained down from every movement she made. ‘Do you think I’d do that to him? You think I’m no better than Rasten and Kell?’

  ‘Aren’t you? Cam told me what you are. He explained where your power comes from and why Kell lusts after you so badly. You couldn’t have found a better place for yourself if you’d tried, could you? Not only do you have someone to feed your power but he’s so desperate for the relief you give him that he’ll do whatever you want to get it.’

  ‘Mira!’ Cam snapped. ‘Sirri, I had to tell her —’

  Sierra dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. ‘She would have heard it soon enough from Rhia or the others. You listen to me, Mira of the Wolf. I have never caused anyone pain for my own ends and I’ve only ever used this power against another living creature in order to save my own life. I’ve never stood back and let a friend of mine be injured to protect my own interests and I’ve never withheld any help I could offer until I can get something else in return. By the Black Sun, I never chose this power, but it’s all I have and I’ll be cursed if I won’t use it to help when I can!’

  When she fell silent, no one spoke, but the chamber was full of the angry crackle of power that seemed to be seeping from her every pore. The grass mat at her feet was beginning to smoke.

  ‘Sirri —’ Cam began and she backed off it onto the flagstones.

  ‘I’d better go and cool off,’ she said. ‘Issey, I’ll come see you again before we leave.’ She strode across the chamber and ducked out through the curtain. Outside in the hall, a servant carrying a tray laden with bowls screamed and dropped it at the sight of her, but Sierra didn’t pause. Still in her soft indoor clothes, she strode out into the cold and darkness of the early morning and wept until the tears froze in her tangled hair.

  Heaving a sigh, Cam got to his feet and stamped out the small flames that flickered over the grass mat. In the sudden darkness he said, ‘Well, that could have gone better. Anyone have a flint and steel handy? What happened to that lamp?’ />
  ‘Mira?’ Isidro said from the bed.

  ‘What is it, Issey?’

  ‘That was a cursed stupid thing to do.’

  There was a scrape of metal and stone and Rhia held up a candle stub she’d had tucked away in her kit.

  Pale and shaking, Mira raked her braids back from her face. ‘I don’t want to hear it, Isidro.’

  ‘That’s too bad. You’re not going to be able to kill Rasten without Sierra and the less she trusts you the harder that’s going to be. She’s not like him and Kell. Just because she’s a mage doesn’t make her your enemy.’

  Mira stood with a toss of her head. ‘I need to make arrangements with the High Priestess,’ she said and swept out of the chamber.

  Isidro lifted his head to watch her go and then lay back with a sigh. ‘Rhia, I need to speak to Cam.’

  Rhia hesitated, then nodded and set the candle stub on a shard of broken bowl. ‘I’ll go and speak to the temple physician. I wish I could stay here, Isidro, but Mira has no physician. If there is a battle they will need me.’

  Isidro nodded and Rhia left.

  Cam sat on the foot of the bench and wiped his palms against his thighs. Sierra’s display had left him in a cold sweat. He only hoped Mira hadn’t noticed.

  ‘Cam, I need you to promise me something.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Look after Sierra. You read Mesentreian better than she does and she’ll need help with that cursed book. And don’t let Mira and Ardamon drive her away. If she feels as if she’s alone among enemies and that Kell and Rasten are the only ones who’ll accept her …’ He trailed off and Cam felt himself go cold. Isidro’s instincts had always served them well. He would be the first to admit they were only hunches, but every once in a while events would unfold in just the way he had predicted.

  ‘I’ll do whatever I can,’ Cam said. ‘On our father’s grave, I swear it.’

  Isidro lifted the hand that shielded his eyes and sought Cam’s face in the gloom. ‘Bring her back to me, Cam. Please, just bring her back.’

  Cam found Sierra still out in the darkness, letting the pre-dawn cold burn off her nervous power. She had been watching as Ardamon assembled men, horses and sleds; she was beginning to shiver when he strode towards her through a scattered fall of snow with her coat hanging over his arm.

  ‘Ardamon says we’re ready to ride,’ Cam said, holding the fur out to her. ‘I told him you’d need a few minutes with Isidro.’

  Sierra nodded. ‘I’m sorry. I never wanted to put you and Isidro in this kind of danger.’

  He folded his hands under his arms. ‘Don’t worry about it now. Once Rasten’s disposed of we’ll work it all out.’

  Sierra pulled her hood up as she followed him back to the hall, letting it shield her from Mira’s men as they stared at her with a mixture of fear and awe. She hurried up the steps, anxious to be beyond their gaze.

  Inside there wasn’t a priest in sight, but Sierra saw Brekan sitting on the common-room floor, sorting through his gear with the slow movements of a man in shock. On the far side of the room, Eloba was talking to Mira while a tearful Lakua embraced Rhia with the air of someone delivering her farewells. They all fell silent as Sierra entered the hall and crossed the floor to Isidro’s chamber.

  She dropped to her knees beside his bed. He reached for her hand and then winced at the touch of her skin. ‘Sirri, you’re cold.’

  ‘I’ll warm up,’ she told him. ‘Issey, I have to go.’

  ‘I know,’ he said. He caught her hand and brought her palm to his lips.

  Her voice grew thick. ‘I’ll miss you.’

  He began to speak, but the words died in his throat, and he simply shook his head. Sierra felt as if she couldn’t breathe. What was coming over her? It couldn’t be love. They’d known each other for so little time. It was infatuation, perhaps, and simple gratitude that they’d found a safe harbour in each other, just when they needed it most.

  Isidro reached out and stroked a tear from her cheek with his thumb. ‘You can do this, Sirri.’

  She nodded, dumbly. She had to do it. Killing Rasten was their only hope for safety.

  His pain was coming back, clawing at his arm as it throbbed and burned beneath the splints. With a breath to compose herself, Sierra opened the neck of Isidro’s shirt and laid her palms against his chest. ‘I’ll come back to you if I can,’ she murmured, and drew the pain from his body like the poison it was.

  By the time she finished, he was asleep.

  Cam was waiting for her at the foot of the steps, holding the reins of his horse and hers. Sierra let him keep them for a moment while she checked that the book and the enchantments she had worn during her escape were all still there. She swung into the saddle and pulled the hood up to hide her face. ‘Let’s go.’

  Chapter 19

  The cut to the back of his head stung and his shoulder throbbed. When Rasten closed his eyes he could still feel the knife sliding in and grating over bone. Pain was a teaching tool for the fledgling mage — the rituals gave him an echo of the suffering of his victims and a blood-mage had to be able to focus and channel power despite it. Once, Rasten had dreaded it, had fought and pleaded to avoid it, but now he knew that pain was as inevitable as the sunrise and, in the subterranean world of his master, about as relevant. It came and went as it always did and the world carried on regardless.

  Still, he hadn’t expected such a simple wound to hurt so cursed much.

  You lost her? Kell said through the connection. How in all the hells did you lose her, boy?

  It was Balorica, Rasten said. I nearly had her, master, but then he came up behind me —

  Spare me your excuses! How bad is the wound?

  It didn’t sever anything important. It should heal cleanly enough.

  If you lose any use of that arm I’m going to hunt Balorica down and skin him alive. By all the hells, boy, how could you be so foolish? Where is she now?

  Back with the Wolf Clan, I believe, master.

  After they already tried to kill her? Idiot girl!

  Rasten could feel Kell’s rage burning through the connection. The sigil carved into his back was throbbing with it, as though the iron that had scored it was glowing still.

  Well, you can’t do anything until that wound heals. How long?

  At least a few weeks, master.

  A few weeks? By all the Gods! Perhaps you’d better come back here.

  Thinking of the punishment Kell would exact for his failure made Rasten’s control waver for a moment and with a flare of power flames licked over the bare skin of his hands. Master, I believe it would be better for me to stay here. Sierra must know she cannot trust the clan and she has developed a certain … fondness for Balorica. I might be able to convince her she can spare him by giving herself up.

  The little fool might even believe it. Well then, spin her whatever tale you like, boy, but do not move against her again without my command. If you fuck this up a second time, I’ll cut the price of the failure out of your wretched hide.

  Yes, master.

  Kell broke the connection, leaving Rasten shivering in his tent and trembling with the effort of maintaining the contact. He’d killed his last sacrifice in preparation for Sierra’s capture and hadn’t arranged another. It would have been too dangerous given she could derive power from a subject more quickly than he could.

  When he closed his eyes Rasten could still see her on the riverbank, wreathed in a nimbus of lightning. She wasn’t the same terrified girl who had surrendered in the ruined temple. Properly fuelled, if she tried again to kill them both with all the strength and determination desperation would give her, Rasten was far from certain he would be able to stop her. All his fears that she wasn’t ready seemed laughable now. She’d grown so strong!

  That didn’t mean the danger was past. Kell was uncommonly brutal with his apprentices; he had been ever since one snapped and attacked him, delivering the wound that had left Kell needing a cane for support
. Rasten himself had been a Sympath like Sierra, one of the rare breed of mages who could raise power without the elaborate rituals of the blood-mages, but Kell had crippled him with hard use. While Rasten was powerful compared to the charlatans who eked out a living in Mesentreia, he was still far less than he might have been.

  It was Sierra’s sex that had saved her from the same fate. By the time Kell had finally tracked her down, she was old enough to have a woman’s body. A few years younger and Kell might have been able to convince himself she was boyish enough to arouse his desire, and she would have been ruined as he was. Now that her power had matured, Kell would set about breaking her down to a true slave, a living reservoir of power to be filled and tapped as required.

  Rasten remembered clearly the day he realised she would one day outstrip him and had fully understood just what he’d lost to Kell’s hands. She’d awoken a dream Rasten had buried long ago; she’d let him hope that one day, perhaps, he could be free of Kell and his torments. Free of the dungeons and their stench and the perpetual cold and the gloom.

  Rasten knew he couldn’t kill Kell. He lacked the strength. Sierra, on the other hand …

  He could use her power, but that alone wouldn’t be enough. She had to be so powerful Kell couldn’t break her. So powerful that his attempts would only make her stronger and bring her through torment and pain until she came into the full flush of her power.

  And once she did they could turn on their master, the one who had slaughtered their families and stolen their innocence, murdering the people these stolen children would have become. Together, they could destroy Kell.

  ‘Oh, Sirri, my love,’ Rasten whispered. ‘You’re going to hate me before it’s over, but in the end you’ll understand. It’s the only way.’

  Sirri.

  Sierra’s eyes flew open and she stared up at the roof of the tiny tent Mira’s servants had found for her. Not him, she thought. Not now.