The Lord of Lies: Strange Threads: Book 2

by Sam Bowring

  She reached out a hand and sent her influence questing forth.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded.

  ‘Something from the worms lingers on you. Over time it will probably drop away by itself, but here, let me help …’

  She smoothed his pattern down with an ethereal stroke, brushing the greyness to the floor, while Jandryn looked quite startled.

  ‘Is it … was it much?’ he asked.

  ‘Do you feel better now?’

  ‘I …’ His eyes shone. ‘Ah … but I have let dark thoughts overpower me.’ He averted his gaze. ‘I have been weak.’

  She slid off her chair to her knees, gathered up his hands in hers. ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘Yalenna,’ he said, his voice strained, ‘you should not be down there. Our positions should be reversed. It is I who must ask for forgiveness.’

  ‘It is not needed. I just wish I had noticed yesterday.’

  ‘I can’t deny I have been jealous,’ he said, ‘but ever since the worms it has grown consuming.’

  She got up, went to the window to stare out as she collected her thoughts. ‘We have never discussed your blessing,’ she said eventually. ‘You must know, of course, that you have one, yet you have never asked about it.’

  ‘No. It did not seem courteous. I mean, you must get asked about that kind of thing all the time. Endlessly, I imagine.’

  ‘It’s true.’

  ‘I did not want to be another person bothering you.’

  She chuckled. ‘Ah, you are a strange man. But perhaps I should tell you what it is, for what it may be worth.’

  He didn’t reply. She turned around, and almost did not believe what she saw. His eyes were fixed a little to the left of where she now stood, his expression frozen in place.

  ‘Grief,’ she muttered.

  With Despirrow dead, did that mean Forger was the one using the time-halting power? Maybe in the midst of a raging battle, many leagues away? There was a fear about it now, after the long night she had endured. Forger would not leave it so long as that though, surely? He was just sidestepping a sword or something. As she waited, however, the freeze sustained and she began to worry.

  It was lucky in the end that Jandryn had been in such a mood, for he had left the door open wide enough for her to squeeze through.

  Rostigan tapped the spoon on the surface of his rock hard oats and cursed quietly. Tarzi, sitting beside him, had thankfully not been touching him when everything had stopped. He sometimes wondered how he would explain it to her if they both wound up in no-time together.

  He sat waiting in the silent barracks dining hall, trying not to grow impatient. The freeze was lasting a while and, just as he was wondering whether to get up and move around, and how he would account for his disappearance if time started again, Yalenna walked in.

  ‘Ah!’ he said. ‘Your sudden appearance will be preferable to my mysterious departure.’

  ‘I have just had a report from Jandryn,’ she said, sliding in between two soldiers. ‘The Unwoven are mobilising on mass, and Forger is attacking Ander.’

  Rostigan’s expression darkened. He may have avoided his homeland for a long time, but he did not like to think of what Forger might be doing to it.

  ‘It’s time to act,’ she said.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘At least we better understand our ultimate goal.’

  Going to the Spire – that was what she meant. Was he ready? Rostigan wondered. He did not think so. He glanced sidelong at Tarzi. Was she an obstacle in his search, or, if he became mortal again, would he love her in a way that his current, altered self could not? Perhaps he had already found what he was looking for and did not even realise.

  ‘If we can kill the others,’ Yalenna said, ‘Forger and … Mergan … we can absorb their threads and return them to the Wound ourselves.’

  Rostigan nodded, though internally he balked at the idea. Once he was loaded up with the other Wardens’ corruption, he would have no choice but to return it to the Spell. The way he was he could resist actively using his own power, and Stealer’s too, but if he killed Forger he would also inherit Braston’s and Despirrow’s powers, and Braston’s at least could not be controlled. There would be no more living quietly, playing a patience game with time. He would have to give it all up. Three hundreds years of waiting, for nothing.

  ‘I am fearful of trying to slay Forger,’ he said. ‘His strength will be very great by now. In a direct stand-off, I do not favour us.’

  ‘Braston and I bested him once before.’

  ‘When you managed to catch him alone. When he had already expended much power in his search for me. Not to mention that Braston was a better threader than I in direct confrontation.’

  She nodded dully. ‘The army must march, at least. Perhaps we can deal with the Unwoven first, and with the backing of other threaders, Mergan as well?’

  ‘Yes, the army must march.’

  Perhaps there was another way to deal with Forger? To use him, even? The thought of it worried Rostigan – had worried him ever since he’d started entertaining it, after hearing Salarkis’s message.

  Could he journey so far into the deep place without grave consequences to his soul?

  ‘I have an idea,’ he said.

  They argued about it for a while – Yalenna shared Rostigan’s concerns, but eventually she agreed.

  ‘Bruises in the sky and the ground quakes,’ she said. ‘I suppose it would be fair to call these desperate times.’

  Rostigan nodded. ‘Haste is becoming a factor.’

  ‘You really think you can do it?’

  ‘I think I must try.’

  She remained uncertain. ‘I can’t help but feel it would be simpler to orchestrate his demise.’

  ‘And how would we go about that? Go to him while he stands surrounded by his army? Threadwalk into their midst and attack him head on?’

  ‘We could bide our time, wait until the right moment …’

  She trailed off, and he knew what she was thinking. Moments were growing shorter in supply.

  He felt a hint of guilt – was he trying to convince her of his plan for selfish reasons, or was it really the best course of action?

  ‘Do you really want Forger’s threads inside you?’ he asked. ‘What if they make you something like him?’

  She paled at that, and bit her lip. ‘You did not become like Stealer,’ she said. ‘And Forger, presumably, has not become like Braston.’

  ‘I was affected, nonetheless,’ he said, not liking the fact that he had to lie. ‘There are sometimes … urges … that I must control.’

  ‘What? You’ve never spoken about this before.’

  ‘I did not want to worry you. The point is, Forger was the most affected, the most changed, of all of us. That bespeaks potency in his threads – who knows what would happen if either of us took them on? There is the potential we could grow even more powerful, more twisted, than he is now.’

  That was when he got her, he knew, and she looked perfectly miserable for a moment.

  ‘If you get yourself killed,’ she said, ‘or sink too far … I don’t think I can do it all on my own.’

  It was rare to see her look so vulnerable, and he appreciated her worry. Having lost all former friends and allies, it was really only the two of them standing together.

  ‘I won’t leave you alone,’ he said. ‘I promise.’

  ‘What are you going to tell Tarzi?’

  He glanced at his minstrel, frozen mid-chew, her freckled cheeks full of breakfast. Could he spend the rest of his days with her? Why couldn’t he give up on some whimsical dream befitting a twelve-year-old girl, and settle for reality?

  ‘I’ll think of something,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, by the way – there was some worm dust on Jandryn. You might want to check that Tarzi doesn’t carry any.’

  ‘I did. She doesn’t.’

  ‘Ah. Well thanks very much for warning me such a thing is possible.’

>   ‘Apologies.’

  ‘Honestly, I suffer enough for keeping your secrets. You could at least share knowledge when it costs you nothing.’

  ‘I’m sorry, really. It simply did not occur to me.’

  Time started, and the soldiers on either side of Yalenna were startled to find her sitting there. Tarzi also choked a little.

  ‘Priestess!’ she said, wiping her mouth. ‘Where did you spring from?’

  Yalenna, however, was distracted. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, sliding backwards off the seat. ‘I left Captain Jandryn – I must go and find him.’

  A thought stopped her, and she turned back to Rostigan.

  ‘When?’ she asked.

  Rostigan wondered if he really meant to go through with it. A cold chill crept down his arms, and he had no more appetite for the food before him.

  ‘Soon,’ he heard himself say. ‘Today.’

  She gave a little nod and left.

  ‘What was that about?’ said Tarzi.

  He stared at his oats and let the spoon sink away. ‘I’m not sure,’ he replied.

  It wasn’t the first time she had vanished from his presence, so hopefully Jandryn wouldn’t be overly concerned, but it had happened at rather an awkward moment. She rounded a corner to find him coming down a corridor, speaking to two other guards. When he saw her, relief showed on his face.

  ‘Leave us,’ he told his underlings. Once they had gone; ‘Did time stop again?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where did you go?’

  Speaking with Rostigan was maybe not going to be a popular answer.

  ‘Just checking that everything was all right. I was going to wait it out, but it lagged a little.’

  Jandryn glanced out a window at the sky, and she knew what he was wondering.

  ‘Not as long as last time,’ she said. ‘The day’s natural cycle will not be interrupted. Captain, we must speak to Loppolo. It is time for the army to march.’

  ‘Yes, Priestess.’

  There was a question in him, however, and she could guess what it was.

  ‘Yalenna … er …’ He shifted his feet.

  ‘You heard me mention your blessing? I was not sure quite when things stopped.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘Yes. You said you would tell me what it was, and the next moment you were gone.’

  ‘Well then, it is only fair to tell you now.’ She arched an eyebrow at him. ‘To be lucky in love.’

  His eyes opened wide in astonishment.

  ‘Which you have very much been.’ She prodded a finger into his armoured chest. ‘But, if you’re not very careful from now on, and visit at night when you’re supposed to, your luck will not last. Now, enough of this nonsense. We must go to the king.’

  She turned away, leaving him opening and closing his mouth, with no words coming to the fore.

  They walked a row of street-side stalls, Rostigan fumbling unconsciously with his coin purse.

  ‘It’s a bright day,’ he had said. ‘We should go for a walk. I’ll buy you something nice.’

  ‘Look at these!’ Tarzi exclaimed, picking up a spiky fruit. ‘I’ve never seen their like before.’

  ‘Two please,’ said Rostigan to the vendor.

  Tarzi set about peeling hers, exposing a soft yellow flesh. Messily she sucked on it, and her eyes lit up with delight.

  ‘It’s nice!’

  Rostigan scratched at the skin of his idly, but couldn’t really be bothered with it right now. He certainly wasn’t hungry.

  ‘Something’s the matter?’ Tarzi said.

  ‘Mmm.’

  Fruit wasn’t much of a gift – he needed something better. A moment later, the market presented him with a stall of musical instruments. He nodded at it, and Tarzi cast an eye over the wares with mild interest.

  ‘Look at this one,’ he said, picking up a lute elaborately carved with flowery spirals.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ gloated the vendor, ‘I see sir has an eye for quality. That is an old lute indeed, carved by the famous Redrelli in fact, right here in Althala! It came to me only recently, but I can guarantee its authenticity, and also that it won’t last long.’

  ‘It’ll break?’ said Tarzi.

  ‘What?’ The vendor looked aghast. ‘No, miss – I simply mean it will sell easily.’

  ‘Well congratulations on your imminent good fortune, then.’

  As they drew away, Rostigan asked quietly, ‘You wouldn’t like a new lute?’

  ‘Why, with all those carvings? What if I want to thump the sides, those silly spirals would get in the way. Redrelli indeed! Maybe his instruments are good for hanging over mantles and never being played, but I prefer my trusty old friend, with me for many years now.’

  She gave her lute a pat.

  This was no good. This wasn’t making it any easier at all.

  ‘I have to go away for a while,’ he said. ‘Hopefully just a few days.’

  ‘What? Where?’

  ‘I’ve something to do, of great importance.’

  For a moment she stared off, sucking on the spike-fruit pip as if she hadn’t heard him.

  ‘Tarzi.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I am sorry, songbird, I cannot say.’

  She didn’t scowl, or raise her voice, but he could sense she was angry.

  ‘Is Yalenna going?’

  ‘No.’

  That surprised her, made her indignant.

  ‘Rostigan, what can you possibly have to do all on your own? You’re just one warrior – a good one, yes, but you belong with the army. You just told me they’re about to march and fight the Unwoven!’

  ‘I mean to join them in time for that.’

  ‘Then what is it? I can’t believe you won’t tell me. I’m not asking to come, if that’s what concerns you.’

  ‘You go with the army too. If you want. Perhaps you can keep their spirits high. Please Tarzi, believe that I’m trying to do what’s right, to help us all. There are good reasons why I cannot speak of it.’

  ‘Is it dangerous? What if you don’t come back?’

  He stared at the ground. Her concern was real. There was every chance he went to his doom, but he could not tell her that.

  ‘I’m coming back.’

  He wished he could believe it.

  ‘Tarzi, I swear it.’

  She didn’t look like she believed it either.

  ‘And when I do, I’ll tell you all about it.’

  Probably not.

  ‘Please don’t be angry.’

  He grew a little frustrated himself. This was exactly why he had never wanted a travelling companion in the first place, especially one so attached to him. It made life difficult.

  Why hadn’t he just made up a lie? If he did survive and make it back, Tarzi would never rest until she’d learned where he had gone. He had done himself no favours by deferring the problem to his future self. Was it because he expected to fail? If he was dead, he would no longer care.

  ‘I am going with a band of soldiers to seek out more worms,’ he said. ‘There have been a spate of attacks in neighbouring areas.’

  ‘What? That’s your big important secret?’

  ‘Yes. I didn’t want to tell you because … well, I thought, after your recent adventure, you might consider yourself a veteran of such things, and be eager to place yourself in harm’s way again.’

  She stared at him intently. ‘So instead, with my safety firmly in mind, you send me with an army going to fight opponents possessing strength beyond any mortal man?’ She shook her head. ‘You make no sense. There’s something you aren’t telling me.’

  He did not know what else to say, just stood there scratching his arm.

  ‘Fine,’ she said, coldly.

  ‘I’ve left the curltooth in the room. Maybe you can have a little of it with this fruit you like?’

  He held out the spiky thing he’d been carrying, and for a moment she stared at it dully. Then a tear fell from her eye and she walked
away without taking it.

  Sighing, Rostigan moved on. He was going to have to better remember his old talent for lying very quickly if he was to have any hope of return. With half an eye he watched for somewhere secluded from which he could threadwalk, but could not make up his mind to leave just yet. There was, perhaps, one more task before he left.

  Maybe.

  Was it what a good man would do?

  Rostigan moved through the recruit’s camp with his shoulders hunched, as if that could somehow shield him from the stares. Already he had asked an officer or two where he might find Cedris, and they, of course, had no idea who he was talking about – for a start, there was more than one Cedris in the army. He was pointed towards a kind of administration tent and, after a short stop there, he made his way towards an area where at least one Cedris of the right age and description was supposed to be camped.

  He passed row upon row of neatly lined tents, everything about them in order. Most were tied closed, so he had no idea if the boy was inside any of them or not – probably not, since it was daylight. Just when he was about to stop and ask someone else, he thankfully heard a familiar laugh. At the edge of camp, a group of recruits jousted as others watched on. Among the pairs of combatants, a young man with a shaved head had just fallen on his rump, who Rostigan thought he vaguely recognised, and a young woman stood over him, grinning in triumph. Rostigan searched for the source of the laugh, and saw Cedris watching on from a log.

  ‘Too bad, Artanon!’ Cedris called to the fallen recruit. ‘I really thought you might beat her this time.’

  ‘She’s faster than a starving wildercat,’ replied Artanon dourly. Still, he was accepting enough as his opponent offered a hand to help him up.

  ‘Cedris,’ said Rostigan.

  Cedris glanced around, gave an exclamation of pleased surprise, and rose instantly, brushing himself off. ‘Skullrender! I wasn’t expecting to see you here. How goes it?’

  ‘May we speak?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Rostigan led him away from the group a little, and came to stop staring at the ground. Now that they were here, he found it hard to know what to say.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ asked Cedris.

  ‘Hmm? Yes. Well. Maybe.’ He forced himself to meet Cedris’s eyes. ‘Listen … we are friends, are we?’