Winterbirth

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Winterbirth Page 15

by Brian Ruckley


  She opened her mouth, and closed it again, not knowing what to do. She looked for Inurian. He was sitting thirty or more paces away. He was watching her. She raised her eyebrows at him, wondering how to convey her news. She could not be sure, but she thought there was the faintest hint of a smile on his lips then and, so fast it could easily have been missed, a flicked wink of one eye as he turned away from her.

  The hours flowed into one another. She lost her sense of direction. The stars were obscured at night and the sun hidden during the day by banks of cloud. She shivered, and ached, and slept poorly.

  Occasionally, Aeglyss would ride alongside her and watch her in provoking silence. She struggled to ignore him, and would not meet his strange, half-human eyes.

  In those long, lonely hours on horseback, she found herself prey to bleak thoughts and imaginings that she could not fend off. Her father had laughed that night in the feasting hall, when the jugglers had played their part. He had been happy. She could see his face when she closed her eyes. She could see his slumped figure as well, propped limply against the castle wall. She had not seen Orisian's body in the courtyard; it could have been there, nevertheless.

  Inurian was somewhere behind her on the trail, and a longing to be near him filled her. Orisian had always been closer to the na'kyrim than she had. Somehow the knowledge that Inurian, perhaps alone in all the world, could see into her heart and lay bare the pain and fears she held caged there had made her keep some distance between them. For all that, he had never been anything other than kind and now he was all she had left. He alone remained of all the people who had filled spaces in her life.

  In the afternoon they unbound Anyara and Inurian and at last let them sit together while the horses were watered at a stream. She pressed her face into his shoulder. Still she would not cry, but the contact met a raw need in her. Inurian was massaging and probing at his right knee. He left off to put his arm around her shoulders.

  'Be strong a while longer,' he said.

  'Yes. I know, I know.'

  'You noticed Idrin, then.'

  Anyara smiled at him. It was better not to talk about all the other things that teemed in her thoughts.

  'Has he been following us all the way?' she asked.

  'Oh, yes. He has always been stubborn. It is a trait of crows in general which he has refined to its purest form.'

  'When we were young, we used to tell each other that the Inkallim could turn themselves into crows,'

  Anyara murmured.

  'Perhaps you had heard people calling them ravens. An easy confusion for children. But no; the Whreinin and the Saolin were the only races made with the talent of shapechanging. The Anain have no true shape at all, and so cannot be counted.'

  'I half-thought the Inkallim were just a story anyway,' Anyara said wearily.

  'A pity they are not.'

  They were quiet for a little while after that. Anyara found other recollections of childhood fears drifting into her thoughts: the debris of long evenings she, Orisian and Fariel had spent trying to scare each other with whispered tales.

  'Is Aeglyss like one of the na'kyrim in olden days?' she asked. 'The ones that were so terrible?'

  Inurian shook his head slowly.

  'No, I don't think so. That was all a very long time ago, Anyara. There's no need to fear something so long gone. Aeglyss is strong, certainly: the Shared seethes around him. But I don't think he really knows how to use it. There are so few of us now, we've forgotten most of what the na'kyrim knew all those years ago. There've been no great masters of the Shared for a good three centuries, not since the years after the War of the Tainted. Anyway, the tales of them have probably been bloated by fear and by the passage of time.'

  'Well, I hope no more stories will be coming to life,' Anyara said.

  'I hope so too,' replied Inurian. There was a distance and seriousness in his tone that made her want to shiver. He sensed it, and gave her a broad smile.

  'Do not worry,' he said. 'No more stories.'

  Soon after, their captors came and dragged them once more to their feet.

  A steady rain had been falling for the two hours since the Inkallim made camp. They were spread along the edge of a field of rough grass, with a scrawny copse of alder trees behind them. The few Kyrinin - ten or twelve - who had stayed with the party after they left the sheltering forests of Anlane had taken cover beneath the trees. A scattering of crows was huddled in the branches above, waiting for the rain to pass.

  The Inkallim had set up makeshift awnings as soon as they came to a halt, hacking down thin saplings from the copse and spreading capes and canvas sheets between them. They were clustered beneath them now, talking softly, cleaning their weapons and chewing on biscuits and dried meat. They held little pots out to collect the rain-water, and drank from them. Their horses were tethered at the edge of the copse.

  Inurian and Anyara had been left, their hands and feet bound, to sit without protection upon the dank grass. Their hair and clothes soaked through, they watched the few cattle that were listlessly grazing out in the centre of the field. Anduran was less than an hour's walk away. The rain-blurred shapes of the city's buildings were dimly visible to the north. There was no smoke there now; the fires must have been dampened down.

  Aeglyss wandered across to them and squatted down, ignoring the rain. Inurian lowered his eyes and stared at the patch of ground between his feet. .

  "What's happening?' demanded Anyara. 'Why have we stopped?'

  'We are to be met by Kanin nan Horin-Gyre. It is an honour,' smiled Aeglyss.

  'The Horin-Gyre Bloodheir? They're the ones doing this? Well, he could just as easily have met us in Anduran, beneath a roof.'

  Aeglyss shrugged. 'Who knows why the powerful do the things they do? I am told he wanted to meet us outside the town.'

  'He'll only kill us anyway,' muttered Anyara. 'Probably wants to do it out of sight.'

  'Oh, not you, my lady,' Aeglyss assured her. 'He was content to have some of your family taken alive.

  He can find a use for you, I am sure, or his sister will. If you want to fear someone, I would choose her.'

  He glanced at Inurian, who was pointedly ignoring the exchange.

  'Your friend here may be another story, naturally. The Bloodheir may well prefer to see him dead.

  Unless I can dissuade him, of course.'

  With a show of boredom, Inurian looked up. 'None of the Gyre Bloods are renowned for their clemency. I doubt such as you can sway him.'

  'Such as I? I brought the White Owl clan to his Blood's side. If the White Owl had taken up their spears against him instead of being his guides and feeding him, how could he have brought his army through Anlane? Without me, he would not now be camped at the gates of Castle Anduran. I think you will find that the Horin-Gyre Bloodheir remembers his friends.'

  'The White Owl will not thank you for what you have done,' Inurian said.

  'What do you care, Fox?' snapped Aeglyss. 'They'll thank me well enough when the Lannis Blood is gone.'

  Inurian looked over towards the dour group of warriors gathered beneath the awnings.

  'Better Lannis than the Inkallim and the Bloods of the Black Road . The White Owl will learn that soon enough.' He turned back to Aeglyss. 'Was your mother or your father of the White Owl?'

  The younger man hesitated, taken unawares by the question. For a moment it seemed that he might not answer.

  'My mother,' he said. 'And my father was of the Horin-Gyre Blood, so have a care what you say, old man.'

  Inurian regarded him for a moment. 'You must have been born not long after the battle at Tanwrye thirty years ago,' he said. 'Your father escaped into Anlane after the Horin-Gyre army was defeated? He was taken by the White Owl?'

  The blow came too quickly for Inurian to avoid it. Aeglyss struck him hard across the side of the face, knocking him to the ground. Anyara lunged at Aeglyss, but he pushed her away. Inurian lay there for a few seconds, then righted himself. Blood oozed f
rom the corner of his mouth. It was washed away by the rain.

  Aeglyss laid a single finger upon Inurian's chest. His eyes were brimming with cold anger. Anyara could see a muscle clenched so tight in his jaw it might have been a rod of iron laid over his bones. She had a terrible, momentary sense that the na'kyrim was about to burst and spill some awful, burning spirit of anger and hatred over them.

  'Better not to speak of things you know nothing about,' Aeglyss hissed, and rose to his feet. 'Let's wait and see what Kanin wants to do you with you,' he called over his shoulder as he stalked back to join the Inkallim.

  Anyara turned to Inurian, a look of concern on her face. Inurian spat inelegantly.

  'I'm fine,' he said. 'His parentage would appear to be a sensitive subject.' He leaned a little closer to Anyara. 'Have a care of that one. Whatever happens to me, keep away from him. He may be more dangerous than I thought.'

  'He seems dangerous enough already,' Anyara muttered.

  Inurian shook his head. 'It's mostly bluster. Beneath the surface, he's all bound up in a knot of anger and pain. He is poisoned by it. Nevertheless, there is more power in him than he knows. When he's angry like that, I can feel the Shared in him like a thunder-cloud. If he knew how to draw upon it, he would be capable of a great deal.'

  'In any case,' said Anyara with forced lightness, 'nothing's going to happen to you.'

  Inurian smiled at her. 'Just remember. Stay away from him.'

  There was a sudden flurry of activity amongst the Inkallim. They were getting to their feet. Peering out through the grey rain, Inurian and Anyara could just make out a group of riders coming towards them across the farmland.

  'It's Kanin,' said Inurian. 'The Bloodheir is coming.'

  The heir to the Thaneship of the Horin-Gyre Blood was a tall, strong man in his late twenties. His heavy black hair was matted down by the rain. It gave him a roguish, rather bedraggled look. Had Anyara not known who he was, she might have thought him handsome. Instead, she felt the stirring of hatred. Of all the Bloods of the Black Road , it was Horin-Gyre, with its strongholds at the northern end of the Vale of Stones, that had always posed the greatest threat.

  A dozen warriors of his Shield had come with the Bloodheir. Their mail hauberks rang softly as they dismounted. They tied their horses at the edge of the copse, ignoring the Kyrinin amongst the trees, and came back to stand in a loose group behind Kanin nan Horin-Gyre.

  Aeglyss went to greet the Bloodheir. Kanin brushed past him without even meeting his gaze. He looked around, his sharp eyes running over the Inkallim who were coming one by one from beneath their shelters, the Kyrinin warriors now getting to their feet amongst the trees, and finally Inurian and Anyara, bound upon the wet grass. He smoothed his hair back from his face with a leather-guantleted hand, watching the prisoners intently.

  'Who is the halfbreed?' Kanin asked. His voice was strong, imbued with the instinctive authority that was his birthright.

  'Kennet's counsellor,' said Aeglyss eagerly. 'We thought he might be of some value.'

  Kanin walked towards Inurian and Anyara. His warriors followed. He knelt on one knee and took Inurian's chin in his hand, forcing his head around so that their eyes met.

  'I have heard of you, I think. Inurian, is it?'

  Inurian remained silent. Kanin released him and turned to Anyara.

  'The Thane's niece, I presume,' he said. There was a hint of suppressed mirth in his eyes and the set of his mouth. 'A pretty prize.'

  Anyara scowled at him.

  'But not in a pretty mood, it would appear,' said Kanin as he rose to his feet. 'You had better accustom yourself to new arrangements. This valley is returning to its rightful owners.'

  'You have tried that before, and failed,' said Anyara tartly.

  The Bloodheir laughed. It was a rich sound. 'Not this time. This time the past will be buried.'

  He turned towards the Inkallim. 'Kolglas?' he asked.

  One of the warriors stepped forwards, all languid precision and restrained power.

  'Burned,' he said.

  'And Kennet and his son?'

  'The Thane's brother is dead. The boy escaped across the water, but was wounded. He is probably dead by now.'

  A tiny moan escaped Anyara's lips. Kanin ignored her.

  'Probably,' he said, sarcasm tingeing his tone. 'So a child has escaped the famed Battle Inkall. All the Lannis line was to be dead or taken. That was important.'

  The Inkallim's mouth tightened.

  'We answer to Shraeve. She commands the Battle Inkall here, not you.'

  For a moment, the two men faced one another in the drizzle. Watching them, Anyara understood more clearly than before that the Inkallim were something more than just warriors. This man glaring at the son of the Horin-Gyre Thane did so with the silent will of an equal, drawing upon some strength, some core, that removed any need for deference.

  Kanin relaxed and wiped his face. 'Very well. You'll find Shraeve somewhere by the market square.

  You can tell your story to her. At least we have the Thane and his brood shut up in his castle.' He shivered, then smiled at Anyara and Inurian. 'This weather of yours is inhospitable. We had best get you to shelter in the city. I've picked out fine accommodation for you.'

  He turned on his heel and made to remount his horse. He stopped abruptly, as if remembering something inconsequential that had slipped his mind until this moment. He looked at Aeglyss.

  'I do not want the White Owls to come any further, halfbreed. Tell them if they are seen any closer to the city than this, we will treat them as our enemies.'

  Aeglyss blinked, starting almost as if he had been struck.

  'I thought . . .' he began.

  Kanin raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. A flicker of contempt slipped into his voice as he spoke.

  'You would not be so rash as to argue with me?' he asked. 'The White Owls have what they wanted - the Lannis Blood broken - and we have no further need of them.'

  'Your father said…'

  'Do not overplay your hand, halfbreed. My father lies in his sickbed in Hakkan, and I carry his authority here. This is Horin-Gyre land now, and I will not have wights wandering freely across it. You may enter Anduran if you wish, but not them.'

  'The White Owl will be . . . disappointed,' said Aeglyss. 'Others - some of their leaders - are not far behind us. They will wish to meet with you, to confirm the pledges made by your father. The settlements in Anlane are to be razed, a gift of cattle and iron made. I promised them these things on your behalf, as your father wished.' Anyara noted a strange, soothing kind of resonance slipping into the na'kyrims voice.

  Kanin's expression suddenly darkened and he took a resolute step closer to Aeglyss.

  'If I thought, for even a moment, that you would seek to play games against me with your voice, halfbreed, I would split your skull. I know well enough what tricks you are capable of. You may have clouded the minds of the woodwights with your sweet tones, and since they have served my needs because of it, I'll not complain. But do not make the mistake of thinking you can attempt the same with me.'

  The rain was growing heavier. Kanin wiped the gathering drops from his brow and shook his head a little. He spared a glance for the Kyrinin watching them from amongst the trees.

  'When you promised my father you could bring the woodwights to our side, he made an agreement with you. Now it is over. I want nothing more to do with your savages and I will certainly not be summoned to meet with them. Look at them: forest folk dressed in animal skins. If they want cattle, have them take these.' He gestured towards the animals grazing a short distance away. 'If they want settlements razed, let them do it themselves, but I warn you, if they burn a single building within a day's march of Anduran, I will kill you and then hunt them down. If they are disappointed tell them to remember that we will be lords of Anduran soon. We make unforgiving enemies.'

  Aeglyss opened his mouth to speak, but Kanin was already swinging up into the saddle.

 
; 'I have more important matters than this to occupy my time. See that the woodwights do not follow us,' he said to one of the shieldmen at his side, 'and bring the girl and the other to me in Anduran.'

  With that, the Bloodheir spurred his horse violently, and it bounded forwards across the field. Three of his band went after him. The others remained, staring at Aeglyss, who looked around hesitantly. The Inkallim were already bundling up their equipment. A few of the Horin-Gyre warriors rode over to Inurian and Anyara. The bonds around their ankles were cut and they were hauled on to horseback.

  'Wait,' cried Aeglyss after Kanin's disappearing form. 'Give me Inurian, at least. You have no need of him.' No one paid him any heed.

  Anyara's last glimpse of the na'kyrim, as she was carried towards the rain-shrouded city in the distance, was of a lone, shrunken figure gazing after them. She wondered, now that he appeared so forlorn and impotent, how he had ever intimidated her. Behind the na'kyrim the White Owls were coming out from beneath the shelter of the trees, closing upon him.

  A single black crow rose from amongst its fellows roosting in the copse and flapped lazily through the rain. With a few long sweeps of its wings it turned and followed towards Anduran.

  The city was not as Anyara remembered it. Her Blood's proudest creation had been battered by a ferocious storm. Most of the farm buildings on the outskirts were intact, although they had an abandoned air and a feel of incipient decay. There were no people to be seen, no lights in the windows, no smoke rising from chimneys. It was a hollow landscape.

  As they entered into Anduran itself the scent of wet, burned wood filled her nostrils. Gutted skeletons were all that remained of many houses. Rubble had collapsed across the roadway in places. The horses stepped over bodies not yet cleared away. A charred, black-crusted arm reached out toward Anyara from across a threshold. A single white sheet, stained by smoke, hung soddenly from an open window.

 

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