Herald of the Storm s-1

by Richard Ford

  For a time she had been a slave to duty, forced to do what she thought was right, but she had always been the wild wolf of the family.

  Now was not the time to be caged.

  As she reached the end of the corridor, two Sentinels moved forward to accompany her, but she dismissed them with a gesture. On the way down to the kitchens she saw many more men watching the palace than usual. It would be difficult for her and River to get out of Skyhelm unseen, but she had done it many times before, and if River had managed to make his way in without being spotted, she was damn sure he could get out again.

  The lower levels of the palace were in darkness, but Janessa needed no light to find her way. The air smelled of cooked meats and vegetables from the night’s supper and she suddenly wondered if she’d been missed at the grand dinner table.

  It didn’t matter now. She would be missed soon enough. Perhaps the mystery surrounding her disappearance would baffle historians for years to come.

  Janessa was creeping along in the dark, her hand teasing the wall beside her, when she saw a dull light ahead. It was strange for anyone to be here in the kitchens at this hour, and she stood in the dark, wondering who it might be and whether she should proceed. But then how could she let anything stop her now? She could not wait.

  Before she could move forward once again she heard a sound from around the corner. It was a gasp, a laboured pant — and Janessa knew what it was. Even had she not experienced such pleasures herself so recently she would have known the sound of lovers locked in passion.

  It grew louder, pealing out in the dark as the lovemaking grew more insistent. The sound of a table scraping on the tiled stone floor accompanied the rhythmic gasps. Janessa would have left, not wanting to intrude on such an intimate act, until she heard the words.

  ‘Come on, fuck me!’

  It wasn’t the words themselves that made her stop in her tracks, but the fact she recognised the voice.

  But no, it couldn’t be. She almost dismissed it, until she heard the man.

  ‘Shhh. You’ll wake the servants.’

  No! No, it couldn’t be him too.

  ‘Just shut up and fuck me, my lord!’

  Gods, it was her!

  Janessa couldn’t resist going forward, peering round the corner, and there she was, lying on the table on which the kitchen staff prepared meals, her legs wrapped around Lord Raelan Logar as he thrust inside her again and again.

  Graye.

  Her friend Graye.

  Janessa stood and watched as the man who had professed his love and proposed marriage to her rutted with the girl who had been her closest confidante for most of her life.

  Just then Graye opened her eyes and saw Janessa standing there. She didn’t speak, but looked horrified, grabbing Raelan and shaking him.

  ‘What is it? Oh …’ he said, as he too saw Janessa standing in the candlelight. For several awkward moments they stood watching one another until Raelan plucked up the courage to speak.

  ‘Janessa … majesty … I can explain,’ he said as he fumbled his erection back into his trews.

  ‘Really?’ answered Janessa. ‘I assume this means you’ve reconsidered your offer of marriage, Lord Raelan?’ She couldn’t bring herself to be furious, gods knew she had been with her own lover just moments before, but she was enjoying seeing Raelan squirm.

  ‘Er …’

  ‘And you!’ Janessa looked at Graye, whose face was almost mournful. ‘Were you going to let me marry a man you’d already … is that my gown?’

  Graye tugged at the dress she was half wearing, trying her best to cover her modesty.

  ‘You’re welcome to each other,’ Janessa said finally, turning to leave.

  ‘Janessa, wait,’ begged Raelan, but she was in no mood to listen. She didn’t get far, though.

  ‘Yes,’ said a voice from the dark. ‘Please wait, your majesty.’

  The voice was deep and filled with malice. Like Janessa, Raelan and Graye turned as a hulking figure moved from the surrounding shadow.

  He was tall, bare chested, his shoulders thick and powerful — and covered in scars. His face bore not an ounce of kindness and thick black brows furrowed in a scowl beneath cropped, black hair.

  ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ Raelan demanded, moving forward. He reached for the sword that wasn’t at his side.

  ‘Who am I?’ said the man. ‘I am Mountain, and I bring the sky to thunder and the earth to quake. Why am I here?’ He looked at Janessa, and his eyes were like a wolf’s. ‘I am here at the behest of my father. I have come for you.’

  As he looked at Janessa she suddenly knew true horror for the first time in her life. In this man’s eyes there was no compassion, and she knew there would be no mercy.

  ‘Never!’ bellowed Raelan, rushing forward. Even without a weapon, and after all he had done, he was still willing to defend her. Though Janessa could admire him for that, against this man he was no match.

  The assassin moved with frightening speed for someone of such size, easily avoiding Raelan’s clumsy attack. Before the young lord could throw another punch, this man, this Mountain had struck him three times in the throat, his hands slamming into Raelan like iron hammers.

  Raelan fell silently, landing heavily on the floor.

  Graye screamed at the top of her lungs as Janessa stood frozen, looking on in blind terror.

  How could this be happening? How could he have got in here, found her here? And where was …

  Mountain moved fast as a serpent, grasping Graye and taking her up in his hands as though she were nothing more than a rag doll. Those massive hands twisted, snapping her neck and silencing her scream. Dropping Graye’s lifeless body to the floor, the monster moved on Janessa. ‘Now, your majesty,’ he said, taking a step towards her and smiling without any hint of humour. ‘My father will have your heart.’

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  For the first time she had not locked the door behind her. River had not, at first, taken it as an omen, but as time drew on he began to grow more and more uneasy.

  Why had he let her go? And alone?

  He donned his tunic, moving towards the door, but quickly slipped into the shadows of the room as he heard voices approaching from the other side of it, voices he did not recognise.

  River watched from the dark as the door opened and someone entered.

  ‘Told you she weren’t here.’ It was a woman, elevated in years.

  ‘We’d best be quick; it’s been days since this room’s been turned over.’ A second woman, this one much younger.

  ‘Right, you do the linen. I’ll give it a quick dust. And light some candles. I can’t see a bloomin’ thing in here.’

  They both entered, one bearing a candle, the other carrying a bucket and a pile of bedding over one shoulder.

  His heart began to beat faster. River knew he could not be discovered here, and if they were to illuminate the room even he would not be able to hide from them.

  The door began to swing shut and he made his move, slipping through the shadows and making it through the door with barely more noise than a breath of air. As it slammed behind him, he heard one of the women say, ‘What was that?’ but he was already gone.

  What now? He couldn’t stay in the corridor and wait for them to come out again, but neither could he go roaming the palace, waiting to be spotted by the guards.

  He had to find Jay.

  River knew the layout of the palace. If she wanted supplies for their journey, surely she would make for the kitchen, but how to get there? Trying to make his way through the palace was folly. There were twice as many sentries as there had been when he first came to this place, and little chance he could avoid them a second time.

  He moved to one of the windows, peering out at the sheer drop, before moving up onto the sill and easing himself out. A few nights ago, escaping through the window of Jay’s chamber, he had clung there as the palace guard searched for him in vain. Now his wound was all but healed and he felt as
strong as ever — navigating the sheer walls would hold no challenge for him.

  There was a side door to the kitchens. If he could make it down quickly he could soon be with Jay. They could take what they needed and leave this place tonight. His heart soared at the prospect, spurring him to move faster down the side of the building.

  River paused near the base of the northernmost tower, his eyes scanning for sentries on the path that led around the base of Skyhelm. No one appeared.

  With trepidation, he climbed down, expecting at any moment a sentry to appear around a corner, but nothing.

  A feeling of unease crept up on him as he made his way towards the side door. It soon turned to fear as he saw the bodies lying there, armour crumpled, limbs splayed unnaturally.

  River broke into a run, panic rising within him. As he entered the dark passage leading to the kitchens, he heard a scream — a woman. River felt sick. He was scared as he’d never been before. Not for himself — but for Jay …

  He sped towards the end of the corridor, racing forward, not caring if anyone was lying in wait. There was a voice he recognised — a deep and sonorous tone.

  With a roar he burst into the room, in time to see Mountain bearing down on Jay. She was paralysed with fear. There were corpses on the floor.

  Mountain turned to block River’s attack, turning the lightning-fast strike aside and countering with a head butt. It rocked River back and he fell hard against a table.

  ‘You? We thought you were dead,’ said the giant, his brow furrowed in confusion.

  ‘I will not allow you to harm her,’ River replied, still reeling from the blow.

  Mountain launched himself forward, reaching out with massive hands.

  ‘Run!’ screamed River, just as Mountain’s hands clamped around his throat. Fingers squeezed tight, blocking River’s airways, and he looked into his brother’s eyes, seeing only malice there.

  ‘What has happened to you, River?’ said his brother. ‘What has this witch done to you that you would betray our Father?’

  River could feel his vision blurring as Mountain closed his grip. There was nothing he could do against such strength; nothing that could stop his brother’s wrath. The end would be inevitable, and all his talent, all his deadly skill, could not stop it. Still, he could not bring himself to have regrets, could not bring himself to feel sorrow for sacrificing the Father’s love. For a few stolen moments with Jay he would have sacrificed the world.

  Mountain screamed, snarling as he arched his back and dropped River to the ground. The giant spun, and River could see he was clawing at his shoulder blade from which protruded a kitchen knife. Blood was seeping from the wound. Jay stood defiant as Mountain approached her. River sprang forward to kick Mountain in the back of the legs, knocking them out from under him. He kept moving, rolling to his feet and grasping Jay by the arms.

  ‘I told you to run,’ he said.

  ‘I won’t leave you,’ she replied, looking at Mountain, who was rising to his feet.

  ‘You have to go. I cannot fight him while protecting you.’ He thrust her towards the door, then turned again to face Mountain.

  His brother looked down at him, showing yellow teeth in a grimace as he reached behind and finally pulled the knife from his back. With a flick of his wrist he threw it at River, who deftly avoided it.

  Mountain was a formidable sight, a devastating weapon. The Father had said this mission was beyond him, requiring subtlety and stealth. Clearly, since River had failed to kill Jay, the Father of Killers had changed his mind. Now he had decided power and strength were exactly what was required.

  River reclined into a defensive stance, preparing himself to face his brother, when there came a commotion from behind.

  Armoured guards clattered into the room, their swords already drawn, their purpose obvious.

  ‘Protect the princess!’ bellowed one, pulling Jay behind him. Though she protested she could not resist. River was relieved: she was safe. Somewhere else in the palace a bell was ringing, reaching even into the bowels of Skyhelm, alerting everyone to danger.

  River knew he had to escape. If they caught him he would be questioned, and Jay would undoubtedly reveal the nature of their relationship just to protect him. He could not allow her to do that. Not for him.

  Mountain rushed ahead of him. River followed, with the armoured guards clattering in pursuit. His brother smashed his foot against the door, sending the deadbolt and shards of splinters flying into the night and they hurtled on until their way was blocked by half a dozen newly alerted sentries. They were gripping fearsome halberds and they quickly surrounded the pair.

  Mountain smiled. ‘Are you ready to fight, brother?’

  River did not answer. He had no desire to harm these men; they were only doing their duty.

  But his brother cared little about those he killed.

  As the first guard charged in, his halberd sweeping down in an arc, Mountain moved with terrifying speed. He caught the descending haft, halting it in midair. The two of them stood for a moment as the sentry vainly tried to wrench the weapon from the giant’s grip. With a scything blow of his hand, Mountain smashed the haft asunder then swept the blade down in a devastating arc that all but took the sentry’s head off. The body toppled to one side. Mountain launched what remained of the weapon at another charging sentry, and took him full in the faceplate of his helm, knocking him off his feet.

  River knew these men would all meet their deaths, but he was too busy avoiding the swords of his own opponents to intervene. Blades seemed to sweep in from every angle, and it was all he could do to dodge them or slap them aside. He could feel the wound in his side, so recently healed, pulling and stretching, the knitted flesh threatening to split as he twisted to avoid being stuck like a pig.

  As soon as a gap opened he was away, over the corpses, once more on Mountain’s trail. He could see the hulking form of his brother running up a staircase towards the parapet of the palace wall, taking the steps four at a time. He followed Mountain up the stairway, arriving at the top to see to see his brother standing on the battlement, watching him with a smile. A taunting gesture that asked whether River was brave enough to follow him.

  As Mountain leapt out into the blackness of the night, River did not pause. Planting his foot on one of the merlons he followed his brother, leaping into the void — only empty air between him and the ground a hundred feet below.

  River heard the sound of smashing slate. Then a roof came at him out of the dark at frightening speed, his feet hitting the tiles, feeling them splinter beneath him. He just had time to notice the massive hole his brother had made in the roof before he toppled back towards the edge.

  River grabbed wildly at some guttering, but it cracked and gave way, and he was falling again. His ribs smacked against something that briefly halted his descent before he landed heavily on the cobbles.

  He couldn’t get his breath and foundered there a while, desperately trying to heave in a lungful of air.

  A scream, a woman’s voice, and River barely had time to raise himself to a crouch before a huge wooden table came crashing through the window of the house. Mountain quickly followed it, his body battered and gashed from his fall. Yet he grinned as he bore down on River, who now rose with the strength of desperation.

  Mountain swung in with two quick blows that River avoided. As he dodged aside he found his feet crunching on smashed glass and he deftly stooped, picking up a shard in his bare palm. The glass cut into his flesh, but rather a weapon that shed his blood than face Mountain unarmed.

  His brother came in again, one mighty fist threatening to take River’s head off; but the two of them had fought many times before under the watchful eye of their Father. They had tested one another at length, and River knew that for all his strength, Mountain could never match him for speed.

  River ducked, slashing twice with the glass shard, opening Mountain up across the abdomen in two matching red stripes. His brother grunted away the pain, cl
enching his fists and striking in again with a roar.

  When they had been younger, boys barely grown, Mountain had once taken River in those meaty arms and beaten him until his eyes bled. River had known then that Mountain might one day end him and had vowed he would never be defeated by him again. Tonight he would honour that vow.

  River twisted away from those lethal fists, using the momentum of his turn to power his strike. He planted the glass at the base of Mountain’s neck, snapping off the end only when it was far enough into the muscle and sinew.

  His brother roared in agony, his fingers slick with blood, vainly trying to pull the glass from his neck.

  As they both stood, heaving in gulps of air, River saw a glint of fear in his brother’s eyes, something he had never seen before. It filled him with satisfaction.

  Without a word, Mountain turned and ran with surprising speed.

  For an instant River almost considered letting him go, letting him return to their father with news that River lived and had betrayed him for the love of a woman.

  But he knew he could not.

  His father would not stop, and once Mountain’s wounds were healed he would be dispatched once more to kill Jay, and perhaps he would not be sent alone.

  River easily followed his quarry; Mountain was leaving a trail of devastation, smashing people aside and crashing through abandoned boxes, lugs and handcarts.

  They crossed an empty square, and River saw a bridge up ahead. He leapt up, planting his foot on a vendor’s dray to propel himself, then higher onto an outhouse roof. Up he climbed until he was at the first storey as his brother, now staggering, passed below him.

  River leapt like a cat, dropping on his quarry from height. His brother collapsed beneath his attack, but came up fighting. River ducked a blow, planting his foot into the side of Mountain’s knee. He batted his brother’s grasping hand aside and punched forward, hitting that big thick neck with a fist powered by fury.