Blood and Ashes

by E. V. Greig

  She rose slowly to her feet, carefully placing Althanor behind her on the bed. He wriggled down into the warmth left by her body. “What do you want with us?” Already gathering her power to strike at him, Kaiwan edged forwards towards the scarred man. Lightning would do the most damage, she reasoned, but it could also bring the entire keep running to investigate.

  His hand closed on her wrist before she even knew that he had reached for her. He pulled her to him. “Do as you are bid, girl!”

  “Please - do not hurt me in front of Althanor!”

  Hugo groaned. “For Gorun's sake, I’m not about to hurt you! You are safe here with me, both of you!”

  “Why should I trust you? You laid hands upon me!”

  He snarled and shook Kaiwan by her shoulders until she cried out and kicked him hard in the shins. That earned a sharp clout to the side of her head. She ceased struggling then, and slumped in his grasp. He felt her shudder. “That’s better. I’ve no wish to harm either of you. I had to bring you here: you saw for yourself that the restless dead are all over that valley. If your family and friends survived, then they will have fled too. The scouts will find them if they come this way. That is the best that I can offer you. I'm sorry, girl.”

  “The one that you fought was his mother. Her name was Corinne Shadowhawke, and she helped to raise me too. She was a good woman. She did not deserve this.”

  Hugo sighed and pulled her into a hug. “I know who she was: I remember what he told me. No one deserves a fate like that, Kaiwan. I'm sorry that Althanor had to see what happened. The herbs I gave him should help to quiet him until he has had time to recover from the shock.”

  “You mean to say that you drugged him!” Kaiwan tried to pull free.

  Hugo held her tight. “Would you rather that he loses his wits after seeing what had happened to his mother? She tried to kill both of you, or have you forgotten?”

  Kaiwan started to cry despite herself. “What do you want from me?”

  He sat down on the other bed then, pulling her close and rocking her as if she were but a child. “You are allowed to mourn too, Kaiwan. Let it out, or else it will poison you.”

  For a moment, Kaiwan wanted to trust him. Then his calloused hand brushed her face and at once her fear of him returned. She summoned the lightning to her aid. It sparked feebly at his feet but did no injury to him. Still, he appeared to be startled by it. He let go of her wrist and leapt up, shoving her from him. Kaiwan yelped as she tumbled backwards.

  “Sylth!” He spat the word at her: his features twisting into a snarl. For an instant, Kaiwan thought that he would strike her again. Then his eye rolled up into its socket, his body arched, and he collapsed to the floor; limbs thrashing and mouth foaming.

  Kaiwan seriously considered simply carrying Althanor out of the forge. But then what? Where could they flee to anyway? The keep was heavily guarded, and just as able to keep people in as out. Hugo was still convulsing. Kaiwan knelt carefully beside him and cradled his head. “Do not die. I know that you forced us to come with you, and really you had no right at all to do that. And you are very foul smelling and rude. But I do not wish for you to die.”

  She sat there beside him, smoothing his tangled hair and tracing her fingertips along the scars that covered his face and neck. Eventually he went limp. His colour began to improve and his eye slowly focused once more. “Yer a fugging witch!” His speech was slurred. He lapsed briefly into the coarse human tongue.

  “I am the Ca’Ryln.”. She wondered if he even knew what that meant. It certainly appeared that he feared sylth as much as any other human did, regardless of whether he and the rest of Briersburge were truly from another world. Kaiwan realised dully that she had more than likely doomed both herself and Althanor by her actions. Hugo was well within his rights to surrender them to the Lightbringers. Perhaps she could still placate him. He was a man, after all, and by the look of things, he had no wife or concubine. “I am sorry, Hugo. I will do as you bid. If you wish me to share your bed I shall do so.”

  Hugo scrabbled away from her, and staggered to his feet. A look halfway between revulsion and horror crossed his face, and then he appeared to gather his wits. “I don't lie with witches, or with foolish, spoilt princesses!”

  “I am not a princess! And I am neither foolish nor spoilt!” The words were free before Kaiwan could stop herself. She cringed, expecting some sort of a punishment.

  Hugo merely nodded. “Ah, but you don't deny the witchcraft?”

  “What would be the use? You saw me cast, so doubtless you mean to give me to the Lightbringers anyway.”

  Her words baffled him. “I am not of this place. What are the Lightbringers?”

  “They are the servants of the Church of Anyo. They take those who can cast and they bring them into the Light of Anyo by burning them alive.”

  A chill went down Hugo's spine at that. He shook himself free of the memory and grabbed Kaiwan by the scruff of her neck. Dragging her to her feet, he pointed to the door. “Get yourself over to the main kitchen. They will give you work to do. Just stay away from me until this evening's meal.”

  Chapter Eight

  Kaiwan had spent the day scrubbing pots and pans in the main kitchen. When she returned that evening, she was carrying a roast chicken. “The cook sent this for us.”

  Hugo nodded curtly. “Althanor, come and get your supper.”

  They settled themselves around the table and picked at the bird with their fingers. Althanor, who had slept for almost half of the day, pried off one of the legs and stared at it for a long moment. Then he hurled it to the floor. “This is too greasy! I won’t eat this!”

  There was a brief, tense silence. Then Hugo rose to his feet and lifted Althanor by the shoulder. His voice was far to steady to be safe. “I think that it’s time you and I had a quiet conversation about good manners, lad. Kaiwan, see to it that you put the carcass into the stockpot on the stove when you have finished. Althanor and I have eaten enough.” He dragged the boy outside and shook him roughly. “That was rude! She is grieving too.”

  “Don’t care,” Althanor mumbled. “I wasn’t hungry anyway. So there.”

  Hugo sighed. He was tired and the young par’anth was trying what little patience he had left. “I think that perhaps it is time you had a job of your own to do. Since you can’t work in the forge, I’ll ask Lady Naomi if she has any use for a page.”

  “I want my father,” Althanor whimpered. Then he really did begin to cry. “I’m scared – I want my father! I don’t want to be a slave!”

  “Hey now – what sort of monsters do you take us for? You aren’t to be a slave, Althanor! Whatever made you think such a thing?”

  “That’s what Anyosians do when they capture prisoners. They make them into slaves. Or else they burn them alive - I don’t want to be burnt! I want my father!”

  Hugo swallowed his rage and pulled Althanor close, in a rough hug. “No one will harm a hair on your head,” he promised him grimly. “We’re not Anyosians. You and Kaiwan are safe with me.”

  Althanor huddled into him. “It was meant to be her birthday yesterday,” he whispered. “Kaiwan, I mean. She just came of age – her birthday; it’s ruined now.”

  “We’ll make it up to her somehow.” Hugo patted the boy gently on the head. “Come on now – I’d lay odds that Lady Naomi will have sweetmeats. She seems the type.” As he had suspected he would, Althanor calmed down considerably at that.

  ∞∞∞

  There was something dubious about Lady Naomi’s pet dog, something decidedly dubious indeed. Misericord had been observing the beast ever since that devil Bandhir had first gifted the Lady with it. It was not acting as a dog ought to act. Oh, certainly it slobbered and snuffled and scratched itself. Certainly it barked and bounded and bayed – all as any dog did. And it followed the Lady loyally; he could not fault it on that fact. Yet there was still something odd about it. Misericord could not place the oddness; could not explain it or understand it. And that
irked him. Oh yes indeed, that irked him incredibly.

  This was why he was where he was – standing still and silent at the foot of the Lady’s bed, awaiting her arrival. It was time that he resolved the matter. That cat was detestable enough. Cat – why did the Lady insist on allowing it to maintain its charade? It was no cat and he knew that. She knew that he knew that. He knew that she knew that he knew that. Still, for now he was more concerned about the dog. After all, who knew what monstrous mischief or further fiendish trickery Bandhir had been planning? I ought to have known his true nature. The Lady was let down by my laxness. A mistake I shall not make again.

  “Is there any particular reason that you are in my niece’s room?” A familiar voice disturbed his thoughts. It sounded like weariness carved out of ice.

  “Lord Von Rosenhof.” Misericord bowed politely. The light from the candles in the corridor glinted on his mask. “I serve the Lady. I answer only to her.”

  Ranulf grunted. “I thought that you served the Gods.”

  "Our Gods are dead now. I serve the Lady.” Misericord wondered why Lord Von Rosenhof was being so curious. Has Gyrfalcon been spinning stories, perchance? But of course, one did not ask such questions aloud – especially not of a noble. To do so would be improper – and Misericord was always proper.

  “In what way do you serve her?” Ranulf asked him, bluntly. “Should I be concerned for my niece’s reputation?”

  Misericord gave no sign of a reaction. “I shall speak to the Lady later.” He made to walk towards the window.

  “Misericord, Uncle Ranulf – why are you both in my bedchamber?” Lady Naomi swirled in then, a small whirlwind of efficiency as ever. She smiled brilliantly at Misericord and gifted her uncle with a brief kiss on the cheek. “It is still my bedchamber, as I recall.”

  “I was concerned for you. I heard that I killed the wrong man in the refectory.”

  Naomi nodded. “Yes, Uncle; you did. But luckily for all he didn’t stay dead.” She looked at Misericord quizzically. “And you, Misericord?”

  “It will wait, my Lady.” He stepped quietly out of view behind one of the curtains.

  “Your retinue are certainly unique, my dear.” Ranulf drew back the curtain and frowned at the empty space behind it. “I do not suppose that you are about to tell me why that fellow was in here?”

  “I trust him with my life, Uncle. That should be enough for you.”

  Ranulf sighed and shook his head. “Very well, Naomi. On another matter – I understand that Bandhir has been driven out, that we are now on a curious and unexplored world fraught with unknown dangers and wonders, and that a pair of natives are available to question. Where are they?”

  “I should expect that they are eating their supper, Uncle. As for questioning them, one is just a child and I suspect the other of idiocy.” She picked up a silver hair comb and sat down in front of her mirror. “Local customs!”

  “You disapprove of them?” Ranulf seated himself on one of the many carved blanket boxes. “Whatever is it that has angered you this time? They don’t eat babies, do they?”

  “One of their monsters does! But no – that’s not it. Women here, it would seem, are granted no rights. They are property, Uncle! The irony of it – I have escaped Bandhir’s would-be tyranny only to end up in a world where women are nothing more than chattel!”

  “I see your point, niece.” Ranulf nodded sadly. “Still, at least we are alive on this world. And whatever its traditions may be, we are still Alnaiean citizens. We have our own customs, our own laws – and those shall not be forsaken.”

  “Well said that man.” Hugo’s voice came from the doorway. “I trust that I’m not intruding?”

  “Of course you are, but hey ho!” Naomi threw up her hands. “How can I help you, Master Khuff?”

  Hugo shoved Althanor towards her. “The boy is a par’anth – he can’t work in the forge. He needs a job: something to teach him discipline.”

  “I trust that the girl is not going to be a problem for you as well?” Already speaking in Anthiri, Naomi put her arms out to hug Althanor, who hung back a little. “It’s alright little one. I shan’t harm you.”

  “Shall not,” Ranulf corrected her almost automatically. “Proper grammar is vital to the survival of any language.”

  Althanor gulped and glanced at Hugo. Then he edged towards Naomi. “He said you might have sweetmeats.”

  Naomi sighed and shook her head. “I don’t eat sweetmeats. However, I happen to know that my uncle does – and come to think of it he needs a page.”

  Ranulf blinked. “I do?”

  “Yes, Uncle, you do.”

  “Do I have any say in this, dear niece?”

  “Of course you have, Uncle. You can congratulate me on my perfectly delightful solution.”

  ∞∞∞

  Hugo climbed the narrow staircase of his new home. He was tired, and he regretted not having finished his supper. A fool’s choice, that. By now, one would reckon that I’d know better than to willingly court hunger!

  He had been many things in his life – a peasant, a slave, a barge hand, a mercenary, even a monk. All that he had ever wished to be was a smith like his father – to work with good honest metal and to have a family of his own. With Shanna he had glimpsed that life, although only for a few short days. Now she and their entire world were no more – turned to ashes just like his dream of a peaceful life. Hugo no longer cared about himself. He was damned, of that he was certain, but it did not matter. Nothing matters anymore.

  He padded barefoot into the dark bedchamber and pulled off his shirt and breeches. Leaving them where they lay, he collapsed onto the nearest of the two beds and unlaced his braes. Kicking free of the worn undergarment, Hugo rolled over onto his left hand side and sank into sleep. As exhaustion claimed him, he imagined that he smelt wild cherry.

  Kaiwan opened her eyes at the sudden stench of stale sweat and gore. There was a warm shape curled around her own body; a strong arm encircled her waist and she could feel someone’s breath on the nape of her neck. She tried to sit up. The arm tightened, pulling her closer to the person behind her. Her skin tingled as they pressed against her spine. “Who is there?”

  There was a grunt and what sounded like a sob. “Shanna, forgive me - forgive me!”

  It was Hugo who lay behind her and he was senseless with grief and exhaustion, Kaiwan realised. The swell of fear sank and pity took its place. He too, has lost - they all have. A world destroyed - so much death!

  She wondered who Shanna was, or had been. Hugo had suffered just as she had, although she doubted that anyone at Briersburge would understand her bond with Uleno. Darling, brave, wise Uleno - never shall I know another steed!

  Oh certainly there would be other ordinary horses. But she could never hope to have another herdmate; or to dream of riding in the Great Hunt, or exploring the Ullensian Steppes that were her people's homeland. That longed for world was forever closed to her now, for she had failed her herdmate. Uleno was dead because of her arrogance. How could I have been so foolish? And I am supposed to be the one who will save this world?

  That was when she heard the scratching at the shutter. Kaiwan had closed the wooden panels and bolted them before undressing for bed. Now she was glad of it, for the sound persisted and there was something to it that sent a chill through her blood. She huddled closer to Hugo; seeking comfort in the warmth of his arms. The smith snorted and pulled her close.

  Then the sound came again - louder this time. The bolt rattled against its bracket and the shutter creaked slightly. “Kai-wan, Kai-wan - come and have your feasting ca-key!”

  The voice hissed its way around the room and Kaiwan squeezed her eyes shut in mute terror. She knew better than to look - she had not been raised a fool! If she opened her eyes now, the nhynquara would be there, in the room. The only way to best it was to ignore it until daybreak drove it away again. But what about Althanor?

  Hugo's voice cut through the terror. “Get the hell out o
f my home, she-fiend - before I chop off your other arm!”

  At that the chill subsided and Kaiwan sensed that the nhynquara had fled. She opened her eyes wide and saw only the darkened room, and Hugo's haggard face gazing down at her as he relit one of the lamps. “I - thank you, Hugo. But Althanor - she will try for him, too!”

  “I left him with Lady Naomi and her uncle. I pity any poor fool that would cross either of them. So you thought to slip into my bed uninvited, did you?”

  Kaiwan stared at him for a long moment. “What are you talking about? You got into my bed! You must not have realised in the dark.”

  He groaned at her words and sat back, burying his face in his hands. “I see.” He made no move to get up. Kaiwan sensed that he was too exhausted to move.

  They sat there silently for a time. At length Kaiwan plucked up enough courage to speak. She had a question which she felt was important. “Hugo, please: I need to know. What are you going to do with me?”

  She cupped her small hands around his rough, scarred forearm. Her fingers were slender and delicate; smooth and cool to the touch and Hugo wondered if Kaiwan had any notion of the effect that she was having on him. A mere glance at her face dismissed the possibility - the maid was innocent indeed. Clearly she had led a cloistered life thus far. And why was that? Why has she dwelt sequestered in that lonely valley - has it been her choice or another's? Why has such a disparate little group gathered together anyway?

  He cleared his throat. “You spoke earlier of others - a rare little band by all accounts: three anthir, a varyn, and a human youth. Not to mention the boy’s late mother - what was she?”

  “She was human - an Anyosian, like Ruiryk. They have the look of your people but not so tall.”

  “I see. Althanor mentioned them earlier. What of you then - what race are you?”

  A slight flush of colour touched her face at his question. “I am Ullensian. I have never been to my people's homeland but I am told that they are very different to Anyosians. They live in tents and have no set place in the land. Instead they follow the herds.”