Godless World 1 - Winterbirth

by Brian Ruckley

  'Are you a prisoner, then?' she asked.

  'Yes. Yvane, if I do not come out of this alive, Highfast should know of Aeglyss. Perhaps even Dyrkyrnon: I think he may have lived there for a time. He said they cast him out. If he continues down the path he's following, it might take Highfast or Dyrkyrnon to rein him in.'

  There was no reply for a time, then: 'They long for these bloodlettings. Gyre, Haig, Lannis, all of them. From the crib they dream of vengeance for some crime or other committed in the distant past. Father kills father, and so child must kill child. It never ends. Leave them to their cruel games. Nobody will thank na'kyrim for interfering.'

  'Aeglyss has already interfered,' said Inurian, gazing at the floor. 'The Gyre Bloods might think he is their puppet, but I doubt they understand what they're dealing with.'

  When Yvane did not reply, Inurian looked up, thinking for a moment that she had left him. The outline of her form was still there, a fragment of cloud glowing palely from within.

  'I would... regret it if you died,' she said quietly.

  'As would I.'

  'Perhaps I should see for myself,' she said. The pale figure began in that moment to fade.

  'No,' hissed Inurian, reaching out an arm. 'You'll only alarm him. He's dangerous. Yvane!'

  But she was gone, and he was alone again.

  He sat without moving for a long time. Then he unpicked the lace from one of his boots, and drew it out. Closing his eyes, he began to knot it. One small, tight knot after another along its length, pausing over each to savour its shape beneath his fingertips. Outside, dawn was breaking.

  *

  The Horin-Gyre Blood held its council of war in the feasting hall that Croesan oc Lannis-Haig had prepared for Winterbirth. The high-roofed chamber was in disarray. Tables and chairs had been overturned and all its decorations torn down. A single huge table stood in the centre, a dozen or more people gathered around it.

  Kanin nan Horin-Gyre was seated in the great carved chair that was to have been Croesan's. His sword lay on the table in front of him. Wain was to his left, his shieldman Igris to his right. Shraeve was there, wearing a cuirass of hardened black leather like the carapace of a martial beetle, and all the captains of the Bloodheir's army. A single Tarbain chieftain, old and haggard in a jacket trimmed with moth-eaten bearskin, occupied one end of the table. He looked as if he might fall asleep at any moment. Aeglyss the na'kyrim sat a little apart from the others, his chair pulled back: he was here only by the indulgence of the Bloodheir's sister and Kanin would not grant him a seat at the table.

  'We must make the attempt,' Wain was saying. Her eyes had a fierce intensity and certitude. 'We will not be granted enough time to sit here and wait for the castle to be delivered to us. We must reach out and take it.'

  Nobody seemed to be inclined to challenge her judgement, though Kanin knew not everyone here agreed with it. He had his own doubts.

  'Is there any fresh word from the scouts this morning?' he asked.

  One of the warriors shook his head. 'There are bands of farmers and villagers roaming around beyond Grive and the Dyke, but no sign of any army yet. They will spend a while longer licking the wounds we gave them at Grive.'

  'Only until another few thousand Kilkry horsemen turn up,' muttered Wain. 'Then what? We can't fight them with Tarbains and woodwights.'

  She cast an angry glance at the Tarbain chieftain at the end of the table. He grinned back at her and said nothing. There were many gaps amidst his teeth.

  'We don't know yet how long it will be before help comes to us from the north,' Kanin said. 'Tanwrye has not fallen, and will not do so for days -- perhaps weeks - yet. It can't be taken by storm, unless Ragnor oc Gyre changes his mind and sends his whole army to do the deed. The besiegers may be able to spare us a few hundred spears but it will be no more than that, for the time being at least.'

  He turned to a small, slender man who sat beside Shraeve.

  'Cannek, what do you know of the castle's strength?'

  The man looked up. He wore nondescript clothing of hide and soft leather; his face was plain, without distinguishing features. Someone passing him in the street might do so without noticing him, but for the long, sheathed knives that were strapped to each forearm. He was the leader of the dozen Hunt Inkallim who had accompanied the army. The Hunt had its own methods for gathering information, and though Kanin had no wish to know what they were, he was happy to derive whatever benefit he could.

  'Well, we cannot be certain, of course,' Cannek said with a faint, disarming smile. 'We have questioned many of the city's inhabitants, but really they are poor material for us to work with. The common folk, you know, rarely pay enough attention to important matters such as food supplies and garrison strengths.'

  Kanin nodded with as much patience as he could muster. The Hunt was the least of the three Inkalls that together made up the Children of the Hundred -- both Lore and Battle came before it in numbers and seniority - but it had gathered perhaps the darkest tales of all around it. Whatever Cannek might imply, he would not be relying solely on rumours extracted from prisoners. The Hunt had dozens, perhaps hundreds, of ordinary people in their pay throughout the Bloods of the Black Road and, if rumour was to believed, even amongst the so-called True Bloods. If anyone at this gathering would know what lay behind the obstinate walls of Castle Anduran, it would be Cannek.

  The Inkallim flicked a stray hair from the back of his hand.

  'They are short of food, though,' he said. 'Of that we can be fairly sure. As to numbers, it's a matter for guesswork in the main. Few warriors, we think. But how many men were taken in through the gate in those last hours before it closed? Can't say.'

  Kanin frowned, but quickly forced his face to relax. It would not be wise to show displeasure. Falling out with the Hunt Inkall could only create difficulties. Still, he suspected Cannek could be more forthcoming if he wished.

  'Perhaps you should execute that Lannis girl under the walls, as you threatened,' mused Cannek.

  'That'll achieve nothing,' Kanin said. 'She's more useful alive, for the time being. Since he was not taken at Kolglas' - he glanced at Shraeve, who ignored him - 'we may yet find ourselves dealing with her brother before long. She might have value as a bargaining piece then.'

  The slight sound of a chair leg scraping on stone from some little way behind him drew Kanin's attention. Aeglyss was leaning forward in his chair, as if straining to close the gap between himself and the rest of them. He should have refused Wain's suggestion that the halfbreed attend, but she had been so calmly persuasive he had given in. She persisted in her belief that he might prove to be of some further use, and Kanin had no stronger argument than his dislike of the man to set against that belief.

  'It matters little whether there are fifty or five hundred swords to defend the castle walls,' Wain said. 'We have been in the hands of fate since the day we marched out from Hakkan. Why turn aside now? Whether we succeed or fail we will have lived out the tales told by the Hooded God willingly and with courage.'

  She is always so certain, Kanin thought. Always the first to test fate. If all of us could surrender ourselves so willingly to the Road our armies would be an unstoppable flood sweeping away Kilkry, Haig, even the Kingships in the south. If all of us had been as steadfast as Wain, perhaps the Kall would have come years ago.

  'There is someone here.'

  The words were so unexpected, so disconnected, that at first no one was certain where they had come from. Then, one by one, everyone turned their eyes to Aeglyss. The na'kyrim was sitting erect in his chair, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. He cocked his head to one side as if trying to catch the faintest of whispers. He looked up to the roof beams, around to the furthest corners of the hall.

  'An uninvited guest,' he murmured

  'What are you talking about?' demanded Kanin.

  'Hush,' said Aeglyss.

  The Bloodheir's eyes widened and he surged to his feet.

  'Do not presume...' he starte
d, but fell silent as the na'kyrim suddenly grimaced and staggered upright himself. A ripple of disquiet ran through the hall. Aeglyss took a couple of steps towards the doorway, his right hand clasped to his temple.

  'Looking for me...' he said to himself. It was clear he was barely aware of the presence of Kanin and the others. He halted and suddenly looked at the dais at the end of the hall. He laughed, though it sounded strained. 'How clever, whoever you are. Like smoke ... a woman, if I see you right.'

  Following the line of the na'kyrim's gaze, Kanin saw nothing. The dais was empty, occupied by nothing but dust and the fallen decorations of Winterbirth. Igris had risen from his seat and stepped forwards. The shieldman looked questioningly at the Bloodheir.

  'That is an admirable skill,' said Aeglyss as he took a step closer to the dais. 'I would dearly love to know the trick of it, my lady, if we meet some time. But not now, I think. No, whoever you are, I'll not have you looking over my shoulder.'

  His hands twitched at his side as if they wanted to reach for whatever he thought he saw on the dais. His shoulders went taut and his jaw locked in concentration and effort.

  'Begone,' he spat through gritted teeth. 'Begone.'

  'He has lost his mind,' Igris whispered in Kanin's ear. 'Let me kill him.'

  Kanin hesitated, minded to grant his shieldman's request but held by a kind of morbid fascination. Before he could speak, Aeglyss gave a sudden cry and slumped to the ground. He lay motionless. There was blood on his face: he had bitten through his lower lip.

  Many miles away, amidst ancient ruins high in the snowbound peaks of the Car Criagar, there was the piercing sound of a woman crying out in pain. It lasted for just a second or two and then died, falling away beneath the wind that surged around the mountains.

  In the hall in Anduran, Kanin stared at the unconscious form on the floor.

  'Extraordinary,' murmured Cannek.

  Kanin blinked.

  'Take him away,' he said to the nearest of his captains. 'Give him back to his woodwight friends, or leave him in some hovel. I don't care.'

  As Aeglyss was dragged out Kanin resumed his seat.

  'As my sister was saying . . .'he began.

  'I believe the castle can be taken,' Shraeve said quietly.

  Kanin looked at her in surprise. She had not spoken since they first entered the hall. He had not expected her to take any great interest in proceedings.

  'It may cost you most of what strength you have left, but then if you fail you will have no need of strength,' the Inkallim said. 'And if you succeed . . . well, who knows what may happen after?'

  'We are of one mind,' said Wain. Kanin glanced at her and saw how chill was the look she fixed upon Shraeve. The two women did not like one another, Kanin knew. Too much alike to rest easily in each other's company, perhaps. But they were alike in determination, in implacability. If both of them were going to argue for the storming of the castle, Kanin already knew the outcome of this council.

  VII

  TO TRAVEL THROUGH the forest in the company of Kyrinin was a revelation to Orisian. He had been on hunts often enough - riding in his uncle's parties or going more softly with a hawk on his arm - and when he was younger he had played with Fariel and Anyara in the fringes of the great forests around Kolglas, and gone with his father to visit Drinan or Stryne deep in the woodlands, but none of that changed the fact that his heart lay with the open vistas of the coast and the Glas valley.

  So it was for most of the people of the Lannis Blood. Even though some grazed their cattle deep into Anlane when the season was right, and woodsmen bred their mighty horses to haul timber to the workshops of Anduran, the forest was not where they belonged. It was a wild place to be cleared, or a source of food, wood and forage that could be harvested only with a wary eye.

  Now, following in the wake of Ess'yr and Varryn, Orisian realised what it might be like to see the forest in a different way. It was not just that the Kyrinin went confidently and quickly over land that had no trails; it was, as much as anything, all the things he never even glimpsed. The first time Ess'yr paused for half a stride and lifted her head, just as a deer might, before moving on, he was puzzled. After it had happened twice more, he realised that she was hearing, or smelling, or feeling things that were beyond his reach.

  Once he understood that, the forest changed its character for him. Birds that passed croaking overhead seemed to be calling a name he could not catch. Trees looked as though they were human figures frozen in the midst of some contorted movement. On the second day out from the vo'an, as the four of them came around the edge of an impenetrable thicket of brambles and saplings, the two Kyrinin froze, snapping into a stillness so deep it was startling. Orisian and Rothe halted as well. Ess'yr and Varryn sank down to their haunches and gestured for the humans to do the same.

  They waited thus for what seemed an age. Orisian's muscles tightened in his legs and the wound in his side throbbed. He longed to ask what was happening, and knew that any frustration he felt would be multiplied several times in Rothe. It would infuriate his shieldman to be held thus at the whim of the Kyrinin.

  At last, somewhere up ahead, there was rustling and the sharp crack of a fallen branch giving way beneath a heavy tread. A great creature was moving through the forest, climbing up the slope heedless of any undergrowth that might bar its way. The sounds lingered for a few minutes and then faded as the animal passed beyond earshot. Even then, the Kyrinin kept them immobile and silent for a long time. Eventually Varryn rose and without a backward glance set off once more as if nothing had happened.

  'Bear. The wind is kind,' Ess'yr said.

  After that Orisian imagined the creature somewhere above them, a dark, ill-formed presence, watching them from afar.

  When they rested they sat a little way apart, Huanin and Kyrinin keeping their distance. Rothe sniffed suspiciously at the food Ess'yr offered. There were little strips of flaking dried meat so desiccated and aged that it was almost black, and a handful of big seeds that Orisian did not recognise. When he split one between his teeth it had a nutty, sharp taste. Rothe gnawed with a wary grimace at the frayed end of the meat. He wrinkled his nose, but teased a strand of the fibrous material loose and chewed on it.

  'I would give a lot for a rack of roast boar,' muttered Rothe as he probed with a fingernail to loosen scraps of food from the crevices between his teeth.

  'Perhaps when we reach Anduran,' Orisian said.

  'That would be good,' Rothe agreed. 'And a bench to sit on instead of wet grass, and a bed to go to at the end of the day.'

  'I didn't know you liked your comforts so much,' said Orisian with a smile.

  'It's nothing but sense, to wish to be elsewhere than under the stars when winter's come. I've had my full share of rocks for pillows and trees for a roof. The years chip away at a man's patience for such things. Still, I shouldn't be hankering after comforts, meagre or otherwise. It's not feasting and sleeping we're headed for.'

  'No,' murmured Orisian. One way or another, it could only be war they were travelling towards; something he felt unready for, something he was not sure he would be able to meet in the way he should. Yet a part of him felt that only war could make sense of the horrors of Winterbirth. Orisian was feeling something he never had before: a desire for blood to wash away blood. The thought felt like a tapeworm lodged in the gut of his mind. He could almost see Inurian shaking his gentle head in disapproval.

  Rothe sensed his distracted gloom, and patted him upon the shoulder. It was a soft touch, from those calloused, blunt hands.

  'We'll come safe through this, Orisian. You'll see. The Blood is strong. And I'll not leave your side, whatever comes.'

  'I'll be safer than anyone in the valley, then.'

  'Of course. I've killed an Inkallim. Not even Taim Narran could claim that.'

  Having Rothe with him was a source of strength to Orisian. In one way alone did the precious shieldman's presence make for a less easy journey, and that was in the tension bet
ween him and Varryn. Rothe's frustration - fury, almost -- at having to follow where the Kyrinin led was never far from the surface. It showed in the rigidity of his jaw and the way he would sometimes tug distractedly at his beard while he stared ahead.

  It was clear that Varryn was not inclined to make the experience any easier. He made no concessions to the humans' lesser agility or surefootedness in the routes he took, and offered no explanations for anything he did. Even to Orisian, whose instinct, however hesitant, was to trust these two Kyrinin, there appeared to be a cold arrogance in Varryn. And his tattoos, the kin'thyn that swirled over his face like the dance of blue fireflies, did nothing to soften the impression. Though he felt a pang of disloyalty at the thought, Orisian suspected that even Rothe might not be a match for the Kyrinin, on this ground at least. Perhaps that was part of what lay between the two men; perhaps such warriors instinctively weighed each other's worth, played out some confrontation in their minds to see who would emerge the victor. Varryn's arrogance might be that of the one who had triumphed, in both his own imagination and Rothe's.

  Several times, when he lost his footing upon some slick patch of moss or broke a twig with his tread, Orisian heard a muttered 'Ulyin,' from Varryn. Once, Rothe caught the word as well.

  'What do you think ulyin means, anyway?' he asked Orisian darkly.

  'I don't know,' Orisian lied. 'Probably "be careful".'

  As they worked their way along the flank of the mountains it was sometimes hard to believe that they were still within the lands claimed by Croesan's uncle. Once or twice they did come across a path that was too crude and obvious to be the work of Kyrinin. Varryn would not let them follow such routes. Sometimes, too, there were clearings where they saw signs of grazing by cattle, or could make out the scars left by some woodsman's or hunter's camp. None of these marks his people had left upon the forest struck Orisian as anything other than transient. He saw nothing that would not be healed.