by Spurrier, Jo
She stood, sinking past her knees in the soft snow. The men who had been guarding her were running towards her with weapons in their hands. Their leader slowed when he saw the expression on her face and shifted his grip on the sword. ‘Now then, miss,’ he said. ‘There’s no need for all this. Just you do as you’re told, and come quietly, or things will go cursed hard on you and your friends.’
Sierra let her power flare and surround her with a crackling nimbus of blue light. ‘Make me.’
Most of the men died when they tried to corner her and bring her back under control. What had possessed them to even try it Sierra couldn’t say, but this time she didn’t hesitate to kill them. She’d learned her lesson when Rasten had come to her on the riverbank.
When it was over, she felt drained. Not of power — power spilled over with every movement, leaving a trail of sparks crackling in the air — she simply felt empty and utterly alone. Nothing moved but the tips of the branches of the trees all around her, gently swaying in the air. The only sound was the wind moaning through the needles.
A few of them had tried to escape, fleeing on their panicked horses or in one case on foot. That was the one Sierra had followed, hoping to learn why they had brought her here and where ‘here’ even was.
But the fellow had heard her coming. The moment she had worked out his location was the instant he cut his own throat. She found him staring blankly up at the sky with the knife fallen from his hand and blood sheeting down his chest. He had blinked at her once, rolled his eyes and then died with one last rattle of breath.
If she could catch one of the spooked horses maybe she could follow the others, but in their place she would be riding as if all the demons of the underworld were after her. Her chance of catching up with them was small.
With a sigh, Sierra laid the dead man face down on the snow to strip off his coat, boots and any other gear she would need once her power calmed enough to let her feel the cold.
She was just setting the snowgoggles over her face when she heard the shuffling cadence of a horse trotting in snowshoes. Pulling the goggles down to hang around her neck, she moved away from the body lying in a smear of frozen red and let her scavenged war-coat conceal her as she hunkered against a drift of snow.
A man on horseback came into sight a few moments later. The horse was weary but skittish and it baulked as its rider urged it towards the crumpled corpse. Sierra now knew enough to recognise it as a finer beast than the scruffy ponies assigned to the rank and file of the warriors.
When the horse refused to move any closer the rider dismounted and with the reins in one hand crouched down to turn the body over.
Sierra clenched and unclenched her hands, working hard to keep her power in check.
With a shake of his head the figure stood, pushing his hood back and tugging down his goggles. Sierra narrowed her eyes when she saw his face. Ardamon.
He muttered a curse as he looked around, squinting in the sunlight and the glare. Then he looked down at the snow, just as she remembered her tracks would lead him to her. She tensed, readying her power, but Ardamon didn’t move. In fact he held himself very still.
‘Sierra?’ he called quietly. It was cold enough that even a conversational tone would carry a long way. ‘Sierra, I know you’re here. I’ve come to help you. I … Well, Cam sent me. I swear on what honour my clan has left that I had no part in this.’
‘Why should I believe you?’ she said, and stepped out from behind the trees, power ready to cast a shield. ‘If Cam had something to tell me he would come and find me himself.’
‘He’s sick,’ Ardamon said. ‘They fed him the same thing they used to drug you and Mira, only he had a bad reaction to it. He couldn’t stand, let alone ride. Rhia says he’ll be alright in a day or so.’
‘Mira?’ Sierra said. ‘What’s happened to her?’
‘Dremman sent her back to Ruhavera.’
‘And what was the plan for me? Was he going to sell me back to Kell?’
Ardamon twisted the reins between his hands. ‘Yes.’
‘Tigers take him,’ Sierra snarled. The burn around her wrist throbbed and tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back and turned her face up to the brilliant sky. ‘He was telling the truth.’
‘You mean Rasten?’ Ardamon said. ‘Cam told me.’
Sierra gritted her teeth, unsure whether or not she could believe him. She hadn’t had time to take in the faces of the men gathered around her when she lay on the sled and there might well have been others who had hung back. She couldn’t be sure Ardamon hadn’t been among them. ‘Why would you come to help me? You’ve never thought me to be anything more than a nuisance and a threat.’
Ardamon shifted his weight uncomfortably. ‘I can’t deny that. And I have no proof to offer you. Look, Lord Rasten was due to meet my father’s men but I don’t know when or where. Cam told me you might wake earlier than expected. All I could do was hope he was right and that I found you before they met to hand you over.’
Sierra hissed and turned on her heel to survey the surrounding land. Of course Rasten would be out here. Her mind was still addled by the drugs and the rush from the power she had gained was more a hindrance there than a help. The slowness of her wits frightened her.
‘We should head back before Rasten realises something’s gone wrong,’ Ardamon said. ‘My horse can carry two until we can track down one of the others from the escort —’
Sierra pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. ‘Wait! Wait just a moment.’
‘There’s no time.’ He started towards her, leading the weary and reluctant horse after him. ‘Get on. I’ll ride behind you —’
Sierra backed away, raising one hand to warn him off. ‘Just why in the Black Sun’s name should I trust you?’ she snapped. ‘For all I know Dremman sent you here in case this all went wrong —’
‘Fires Below, girl, just do as I say! For the love of life, there’s no telling how close Lord Rasten and his men may be —’ Ardamon reached for her arm and Sierra slapped his hand away. She was tense enough that her power spilled over with the movement and a twisting strand of energy leapt up and stung him like a hornet. Ardamon stiffened with a grunt of pain and Sierra hastily called it back in while the horse danced and snorted at the end of the reins. It was pure luck that Ardamon kept enough of a grip on them to keep the beast from bolting.
‘I have no reason to trust you,’ Sierra said, while Ardamon swore and flexed his throbbing hand.
‘On the honour of my clan!’
‘What honour?’ she spat.
He flushed and spluttered under her narrow gaze. He was as arrogant as only one of the noble-born could be. She had seen the same in Cam and Isidro on occasion, but the hard life they had led had beaten most of it out of them. Ardamon had always rubbed her the wrong way and now she couldn’t be sure whether this was merely more of the same, or if her instincts were telling her something to which she ought to listen.
‘Listen to me, you daft chit,’ Ardamon said. ‘We can sort this out when we get back to camp. Right now we have to move. If Lord Rasten catches up with us —’
‘If he does, I’d rather it happened when I’m awake and full of power, not drugged into a stupor,’ Sierra said. ‘For that matter, why wait? He can’t be far away. Rasten!’ she shouted, and echoed the cry within her own mind, summoning him with power as well. Ardamon blanched and staggered back a few steps while his horse began to spook and plunge all over again.
I’m here, Little Crow. I wondered when you’d get around to calling me. Look to the ridge to your south.
She turned to see a flare of red light shoot up through the trees.
While her attention was diverted Ardamon came up behind her and clapped a hand on her shoulder, but then he, too, saw the light; she felt his hand tremble. ‘You little fool,’ he said hoarsely.
They had to wait only a few minutes until Rasten emerged from the trees, mounted on a fine black horse. At a distance of fifty yards or
so he dismounted and approached on foot. ‘Well, Sirri, do you believe me now?’ he called as he led the horse over.
Sierra had moved out into the clearing to meet him. Behind her the remains of the men she’d killed lay scattered over the snow between the trees. Ardamon stood a little way back and to her left, where she could keep watch on him from the corner of her eye.
‘Are you here to tell me you told me so?’ Sierra said.
Rasten pushed his hood back, tugged his snowgoggles down and grinned at her, displaying a mouthful of neat white teeth as though this were the best joke he’d heard in an age.
‘You could have warned me,’ Sierra snarled at him.
‘I told you everything I knew.’
He had told her. She’d just chosen not to believe him. Sierra folded her arms. ‘Just what did you plan to do when Dremman’s men handed me over?’
‘Well, my sweet, I was going to keep them there until you woke up and let you decide what to do with them. Then I intended to give you a horse and whatever gear you wanted and send you on your way. I meant what I said, Sierra. I don’t want to fight you again.’
Her power was surging with every nervous beat of her heart and swarming over her skin in a crackling pulse. She wasn’t sure if Ardamon had noticed it but Rasten definitely had. She could sense his own power held quiescent in a way she hadn’t yet mastered herself.
‘Then why make the deal with Dremman?’ Ardamon said.
‘Hold your tongue, lordling, or I’ll cut it out and feed it to the dogs,’ Rasten said. ‘Well? What are you going to do, Little Crow?’
Sierra watched him carefully. ‘I have to go back.’ She was prepared for him to react with anger and frustration but he just nodded, as though he’d expected as much.
‘And what do you think Dremman will try next?’
She shuffled her feet in her too-large boots. Dremman wouldn’t deal with Rasten again, not when he knew Rasten was playing an entirely different game. But he couldn’t sell her directly to Kell, either. She was too powerful a weapon to be put into his hands. If Dremman could get no value from her he would likely find a way to kill her. If he resorted to poison it wouldn’t be just her at risk, but Cam as well. All of this, even overlooking the danger to the pair of them, only lessened their chances of ever freeing Isidro from slavery. ‘I have no choice,’ she told him. ‘I can’t leave Cam and Isidro where they are. They’re only in this mess because of me.’
‘Getting caught up with them has made you weak,’ Rasten said. ‘They’re a distraction.’
‘No one survives out here alone.’
‘Maybe not, but you didn’t need to become bosom friends with them. Now those who wish you harm will turn on them instead. You can’t protect them, Sierra. But if you come with me now, no one will ever threaten them to get at you.’
‘I can’t leave them. Not yet.’
‘Not yet? But you’re beginning to understand what I’ve been saying, aren’t you? This is the only way you will ever be free.’
Sierra turned her face away. The thought of what he was suggesting terrified her. She knew what Kell’s training would involve. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I will not!’
‘You will have to, Little Crow. I know you don’t believe me, but your power is still growing. When it reaches its peak, you will understand.’
If he was right, there was no way Cam would stand by and let her go back — or Isidro, if he were in a position to stop it. But Isidro was beyond her reach and Dremman, once he saw what fruit his plans had borne, could well decide his next step ought to be to separate her from Cam. If that happened she would be alone again but for Rasten’s voice whispering in her ear.
‘I have to go,’ Sierra whispered and took a step away from him.
‘Then go,’ Rasten said. ‘But here, take my horse. He’s used to carrying a sorcerer and he won’t spook under you. The lordling’s wretched beast won’t carry the two of you far and my men will have rounded up all the others by now.’ He held the reins out in one gloved hand.
Sierra had to summon all the courage she had to take the reins from his fingertips. When his fingers brushed hers she felt herself tremble. With the reins in her grip she backed away sharply, leading the horse with her. It tossed its head, snorting once in mild surprise, but then came with her meekly enough. Sierra turned it in a circle and swung up into the saddle in one quick motion, trying to keep Rasten in her sights as she did so. Some part of her couldn’t believe he would let her go so easily, but Rasten did not move.
‘I’ll be here when you need me, Little Crow,’ he said.
Sierra and Ardamon rode in an uncomfortable silence as they followed the tracks back to Dremman’s camp. It took some hours, but they didn’t exchange anything more than the most necessary words until Ardamon called a halt to let his weary horse rest.
They startled a small herd of white-tailed deer, which scattered at their approach, and Ardamon’s mount didn’t even nuzzle around the snow they had disturbed, but merely stood where he had let it stop, with one hind hoof cocked on its tip and its head down by its knees.
Sierra had eaten nothing since the night before and the few mouthfuls of snow she’d snatched along the way only made her thirst worse. While Ardamon stamped some warmth back into his feet, she hunted through the saddlebags to see what, if anything, Rasten sent with her. In one side she found a water-bag in a double-furred pouch. The water must have been hot when he set out, but now it had cooled to a slurry of ice. Sierra only took a few mouthfuls before replacing the stopper and putting the bag away. It might wet her throat, but it would chill her from the inside out. There was also a package of emergency rations, thick slabs of pemmican made by mixing ground dried meat and dried berries with rendered fat. There was nothing else in the saddlebags, a fact that further convinced her Rasten had always intended to let her have the horse. He had known she wouldn’t return with him.
She broke off a piece of pemmican and offered it to the horse, trusting the beast’s sense of smell, which was more acute than any human’s. When the horse lipped it up from her palm she broke off a larger piece for herself and offered it to Ardamon as well, while he watched the whole affair. Rather grudgingly he took a piece and glared at it suspiciously. ‘Why would you trust anything that creature gives you?’
‘Because I know he wants me alive,’ she said, checking the other saddlebag, which held more pemmican and nothing else. It would make a monotonous diet, but the fat would keep her warm and it needed no cooking. There was enough for a week or more and at least it was food she could trust.
Sierra considered Ardamon as they each gnawed on the bars, stiff and hard with the cold. ‘Tell me,’ she said at last. ‘If you thought your father’s plan was going to work, what would you have done? Would you have ridden after me anyway?’
Ardamon turned his glare on her. ‘Do you understand what it means to be cast out by your clan?’
‘To live as an outcast with no kin and no safe haven to turn to? Yes, Ardamon, I believe I do.’
‘It’s not as though I could have done anything. The men escorting you took their orders from my father. They wouldn’t have listened to me if I countermanded him. Now you tell me. What would you have done if you’d woken up and found yourself in Rasten’s camp?’
‘Panicked, probably,’ Sierra said.
‘Would you have ridden away if he let you?’
‘I couldn’t leave Cam where he is.’
‘Why not? Rasten was right about one thing. He’s in danger as long as you stay with him.’
Sierra looked down at the snow. ‘I couldn’t walk away from Isidro.’
‘And just what in the Black Sun’s name can you do to help him? He’s a slave now! He’s beyond our reach. This is all fucked beyond repair, Sierra. I don’t know what you’re going to do now but you’re mad if you stay in my father’s camp.’
He looked haggard. Of course, she thought, he’s been riding all night while I at least slept for a few hours on the sled.
‘Why would Rasten think for a moment that you’d choose to go with him?’ Ardamon demanded.
‘He wants me to help him destroy Kell,’ Sierra said with a shrug. ‘What will you tell your father?’
‘I’ll tell him I rode after you because Cam was sure you’d wake early. Beyond that, I don’t know.’
She had never got along with Ardamon, but for all his faults he was unfailingly honest, which seemed to be a rare quality among his clan. Sierra’s instincts told her he was telling the truth. ‘What do you think I should do?’
‘I have no idea,’ he said with a weary shake of his head. ‘You should talk to Cam. He’s had more experience in these things than I do.’
‘Do you want me gone?’
‘I won’t lie. I’d have been happier if I had never laid eyes on you. But from what I’ve heard from that man Elomar about the raid on his village, I don’t like the idea of facing the Akharian mages without any way to counter them. If it were my choice I would keep you here. But it’s not up to me.’
The outer ring of sentries were puzzled to see them, but the men waved Ardamon through without question. As they approached the camp itself a man hailed Ardamon by name and came running to meet them. Sierra tensed but the fellow, wearing the badge of a camp aide, paid her no attention.
‘Lord Ardamon, thank the Gods you’ve returned. Commander Dremman has been asking for you. There’s been some dreadful news. Lady Mira and her escort were attacked by Akharian Raiders. The lady has been taken prisoner!’
‘What?’ Ardamon snapped. ‘How? When did this happen?
‘Some hours ago this morning, my lord, but the rider who brought the news only returned an hour ago. Commander Dremman has had us searching the camp for you ever since.’
‘I had best go see him,’ Ardamon said and beckoned Sierra with an imperious flick of his hand. ‘Stay close behind me,’ he said and, as the aide leapt out of the way, he kicked his horse into a canter through the wide avenue between the tents while men on foot scattered from his path. Sierra turned Rasten’s horse to follow.