Godless World 1 - Winterbirth

by Brian Ruckley

  Orisian could not tell whether or not they were welcome here. All of Yvane's words were spoken in a casual tone, yet there was an edge to them.

  'This is where you live? This cave, I mean,' he asked.

  Yvane glanced around as if examining her surroundings for the first time.

  'I've not used this place in a while. You were wandering this way anyway, so you might have found it yourselves.'

  'You were watching us,' Orisian said.

  'More or less,' said Yvane. 'When I felt Inurian die I had a suspicion that my peace would not last long. Intuition, if you like; the Shared, if you prefer. I'll admit you're a more unusual little group than I expected. Lannis-Haig and Fox travelling together has never been a common sight. Rarer than a flat calm off the Wrecking Cape, in fact.'

  She lapsed into silence, and after a few moments the quiet settled so heavily across the group that it would have been a strain to break it. Orisian found the hush less uncomfortable than the talk that had gone before. The fire hissed and popped. The wind rumbled.

  Orisian's head nodded. It became too difficult to stay awake. He stirred once, looking around with half-open eyes. Anyara had slumped against Rothe's shoulder and fallen asleep. Ess'yr and Varryn had passed into slumber where they sat, their backs against the stone wall. Only Rothe remained stubbornly alert, his exhausted eyes fixed upon the na'kyrim woman who, pointedly ignoring his gaze, was stretching herself out by the fire. Orisian saw no more but wondered, as his mind floated down, how long Rothe would keep his vigil for.

  When Orisian woke, the fire was near-dead ashes. A thread of daylight reached in from the outside world. He moistened his lips. They had dried and cracked in the night. There were two dark shapes curled on the floor to his right: Rothe and Anyara. He looked for the Kyrinin, but could see no sign. Yvane too was gone from her place by the fire. In those first few moments of wakefulness, he was nagged by the thought that something was missing. It was only as he rose to his feet that he realised that the monotonous, constant voice of the wind had fallen silent. Walking a little clumsily, since numbness had stolen his legs from under him, he made his way out into the open.

  Even without any wind, the cold air brought tears to his sleep-crusted eyes. It was early morning, and he was amazed that he had slept so soundly for so long. The ruined city sprawled out before him, a stark net of rock cast over the even white snow that had fallen in the night.

  He started as Ess'yr appeared beneath the edge of the platform, vaulting up from amongst the boulders. He held out his hand and pulled her up. She felt weightless, her hand soft in his.

  'You slept well?' she asked, and he nodded.

  'Where's Yvane?' he said.

  Ess'yr sniffed. 'Went at the first light,' she said.

  'And Varryn?'

  'Hunting. There are hare tracks in the snow.'

  'I suppose we just wait for him and Yvane to come back, then,' said Orisian.

  And wait they did. Rothe and Anyara woke, cold and grumbling and hungry. There was dry wood beneath some sacking in a corner of the chamber, and Rothe managed to rekindle the fire. They huddled about it.

  Ess'yr would not settle. Again and again she rose to go outside for a few moments. When she came back in, rather than sit by the fire she circled about it, examining the crude paintings upon the walls. When Orisian asked her what the matter was, she mumbled something he did not catch. This tiny cavern was as far as it was possible to get from the forests and open skies the Kyrinin loved, he supposed.

  After an hour or two Varryn reappeared, clutching a white hare in one hand. He grimaced as he threw his bloody catch to the ground. With a gesture towards his eyes he spun around and went outside again.

  'There's not enough wind to pull the smoke out,' said Rothe.

  Now that his attention was drawn to it, Orisian's own eyes began to burn and weep. After a few moments he headed out on to the broad ledge and sat cross-legged, huddled up to try to keep some warmth in his body. There was no sign of Varryn. Rothe followed him out and sat beside him. The big man clearly wanted to say something, but could not quite bring himself to do so.

  'I wonder where Yvane has gone,' said Orisian.

  'Best not to enquire too deeply into the doings of her kind,' said Rothe. 'More woodwight than human, that one.'

  'She's a friend, I think,' Orisian said gently. 'Inurian thought she would be.'

  'You will go to Koldihrve, then?' Rothe asked.

  'Inurian said it is what we should do.'

  I know you loved him, Orisian, and it's fitting you should give weight to his words, but are you sure? It's not that I don't trust him, or doubt his wisdom. I know he understood things people like you and me don't.'

  The ageing warrior looked him in the eye, and Orisian saw quite clearly the love and care that lay just beneath the surface. He saw, as well, that there was grey in the man's beard that had not been there a few weeks ago.

  'Orisian . . .' Rothe started, and then had to pause to clear his throat. 'Orisian, it may be that you are the Thane now. I think that is most likely the way of it.'

  It was the thought that Orisian had steadfastly ignored since Anyara told him what had happened in Anduran. He had known he would have to face it, but had hoped for a little more time.

  'We can hope not,' he murmured, casting his eyes down. Fariel came into his mind. His brother would have made a fine Thane. But no; he set his mind against that thought. It would not help him now. There was no point in imagining a world that would never be.

  'Of course, of course,' Rothe said hurriedly. 'Perhaps Croesan, or Naradin, or even the baby, still live. But perhaps they do not.'

  'I know it as well as you do, Rothe.'

  'Yes. I'm sorry,' said the shieldman.

  Orisian laid a hand upon Rothe's arm. 'It's only that I have no wish to be Thane.'

  'That's only sense. It's a fool who can't see it's easier to give an oath than be given it.'

  Perhaps, Orisian thought. But who really did the harder thing: Kylane who made an oath that cost him his life, or me, by being the object of it?

  He smiled at his shieldman. 'I had an idea you were close to putting aside your sword, before all of this happened. Was I wrong?'

  Rothe looked uncomfortable, like nothing so much as a man reminded of some childhood foolishness.

  'I had that thought,' he said, 'or half the thought. Perhaps a farm, like the one I grew up on; just somewhere to rest a while, to let the last years be quieter.' His voice hardened, stiffening against the hint of tranquillity: 'The thought is gone now, Orisian. Never doubt it. I would not leave your side now even if you pelted me with stones. Not so long as I've the strength to lift a sword.'

  Orisian smiled. 'Oh, I know that well enough, Rothe.'

  They did not say anything for a time. The smell of cooking meat drifted out and teased at them.

  'Tell me what it is you think I should do,' Orisian said eventually.

  'I will follow wherever you go, but if it were mine to choose I would say we must go to Glasbridge. If you are their Thane, the people must rally to you. You are their strength and you must be amongst them. And if Anyara is right that Horin-Gyre is in the van of our enemies, that is where they will go. Their roots lie there; they must try for it.'

  Orisian hung his head. He knew that Rothe would indeed follow wherever he led, and would lay down his life in whatever cause Orisian chose. As Kylane had already done. As -- a fearful thought - many more would willingly do if he was truly now Thane of the Blood.

  'My heart tells me the same thing,' he said softly. 'But Inurian seemed so certain this was our only chance. I don't think Ess'yr and Varryn would have agreed to come this way if. . .'

  A sudden sound distracted him. Yvane had appeared, bearing a great bundle of furs bound up with twine. Orisian and Rothe stood up. There was a scowl upon the na'kyrim's face that cowed even Rothe before she said a word. 'I smell smoke,' she snapped.

  'We lit a fire,' Orisian said. He and Rothe took a ste
p back as she flung the furs to the ground and came stamping towards them.

  'Have you no imagination?' she demanded. 'Did it not occur to you that firewood may be a little harder to come by here than in your comfortable castles?'

  She encompassed the entire snowy, rocky panorama before them with an extravagant sweep of her arm. 'Do you see any trees?' she demanded.

  Orisian looked around. Rothe did the same thing. Yvane gave a groan of deep exasperation and stormed into the passageway. Rothe and Orisian glanced at one another with raised eyebrows. They heard the na'kyrim's irate greeting of Ess'yr and Anyara.

  'Doesn't do to have one of her kind angry with you,' sighed Rothe, puffing out his cheeks. Orisian nodded pensively, but already his attention was elsewhere. He eyed the pile of furs that Yvane had abandoned upon the ledge. He rubbed his upper arms briskly against the cold.

  'Do you think those furs are for us?' he wondered.

  'I dare to hope,' said Rothe, 'but let's wait until she tells us so.'

  Once Yvane had calmed a little she acknowledged, with all the grace and good humour of a bee-stung mule, that the furs were for her visitors. Orisian and the others pulled them on. For the first time in days Orisian began to feel some real warmth coming into his skin as he sat watching the hare char over the flames. Yvane had reluctantly allowed the fire to remain alight, since the animal was already cooking when she returned. They devoured it enthusiastically, heedless of the grease that ran down their chins and the smoke that stung their eyes. Ess'yr cracked a leg bone in two and sucked at the marrow. They melted snow in one of Yvane's clay pots to quench their thirst.

  Afterwards, Ess'yr went to look for her brother. Orisian could not imagine she was worried about him; he suspected it had more to do with a desire to be under open skies once more. Rothe insisted on keeping watch outside, and left Orisian and Anyara alone with the na'kyrim. The shieldman had evidently concluded that however abrasive Yvane might be, she was no grave threat to his charge's safety.

  Orisian hesitated at first, fearing the sharp edge of Yvane's tongue if she was still in a foul mood, but he doubted there was time to be too careful of her temper.

  'Inurian told us that you would help us. He wanted us to go to Koldihrve, said you could get us there,' he said quietly.

  Yvane, wiping her lips with the sleeve of her jacket, seemed at first not to have heard. Then as she settled herself back against the wall of the chamber and stretched out her legs she fixed him with an attentive gaze.

  'And why is it you want to go to Koldihrve?' she asked. 'Not too many friends of your Blood there, you know.'

  'To find a boat. That was Inurian's idea, anyway...' He paused.

  'But not yours, apparently,' Yvane murmured.

  Orisian gave a small, uncertain shrug. He felt he was being almost disloyal to Inurian by even doubting his instructions.

  'I am . . . unsure,' he said. 'At first I thought we could head straight for Glasbridge, or Sirian's Dyke, in the valley. But Inurian and Ess'yr and Varryn seemed certain we would not have reached them.'

  Yvane prodded the faltering fire with a stick, stirring its embers back into bright life.

  'I don't suppose you would, then. If even a Fox with the threefold kin'thyn feels it wiser to fly up here, chances are pretty good you'd be dead if you'd not followed. There's not many of them amongst the Fox, you know; bearers of the threefold patterns, I mean. The Fox has never been a big clan anyway, of course...'

  'Well, we can't stay here,' Anyara interrupted.

  The na'kyrim fixed her with a sharp gaze, arching one of her eyebrows in a pointed gesture of displeasure.

  'I mean,' Anyara persisted, 'that if we cannot get back to Glasbridge overland, it sounds to me as though we have no choice but to press on to Koldihrve and try to find a boat.'

  'Mind sharp as a needle, that one,' Yvane muttered to herself, and returned her attention to the fire.

  Anyara glared at their host. Orisian willed her to hold her tongue.

  'Inurian tried to get me involved once already,' Yvane said unexpectedly. She might have still been talking to herself. 'He wanted me to ... do something about this Aeglyss. Perhaps that's why he sent you up here. It's not as if you really need my help to get to Koldihrve, after all, when you've got those two Fox nursemaiding you.'

  'Aeglyss?' exclaimed Anyara in surprise. 'You've spoken to Inurian about him?'

  Yvane nodded. 'While he was in Anduran. I took a look at Aeglyss myself. It wasn't the best of ideas; if he had the skill to match his raw strength . . . anyway, I've still got an ache in my head I can't shake off.'

  'Well, Aeglyss is the one pursuing us. Or one of them, at least,' Orisian said. 'Even if he didn't kill Inurian with his own hands, it was partly his doing.'

  Yvane gave a non-committal grunt. 'Inurian didn't say anything about taking care of his waifs and strays. He wanted me to give Highfast a prod, that's all. Get them to take care of Aeglyss.'

  'I thought Highfast was a fortress,' said Anyara.

  'It is,' Yvane replied. 'Never been taken in battle they always say, and I imagine it's true enough. Kyrinin besieged it during the War of the Tainted, and your own kind in the Storm Years, and again in the Black Road wars. Came through it all well enough. There's more to it than that, though; what warriors are left there are more for show than anything. The very first Kilkry Thane gave it to some na'kyrim who were looking for a place to hide away and they're hiding there still, or their successors are, at least. It's not much of a secret, but there's probably more don't know it than do.'

  She sighed heavily. 'Some good people there, but not as many answers as they like to think. They've grown as musty as the books they guard, and half of what they chatter about makes no more sense than the croaking of their crows. It takes a certain temperament to shut yourself up with so many words and so much learning. Neither Inurian nor I ever quite had the mettle for it. A shame, in a way. For those who can settle there it is very . . . soothing.'

  'And Inurian thought they're the ones to deal with Aeglyss?' asked Orisian.

  'Inurian always had a tendency to assume the best about people: I suspect he thought the Highfast folk would help sort out whatever mess Aeglyss is creating just because he's a na'kyrim like them. He evidently believed this Aeglyss is - or could be - a remarkable young man, gifted with exceptional talents.'

  Anyara growled some comment on that, but kept it low enough to avoid Yvane's attention.

  'If Inurian was right,' Yvane continued, 'then it may be that only the kind of na'kyrim who dwell in Highfast are capable of standing against him.' Her eyes glazed over, her voice drifted, following her thoughts down some distracting track. 'Or Dyrkyrnon ... he did say he might have lived there, didn't he?' She hung her head.

  'Dyrkynon?' Orisian asked.

  Yvane looked up, seeming surprised that she was not alone.

  'Dyrkyrnon,' she corrected him. 'Yes. Another hideaway for my kind. It's not the same kind of place as Highfast, though. There's na'kyrim and there's na'kyrim. The ones at Dyrkyrnon can be less friendly than a bear with a thorn in its foot when the mood takes them.'

  There was a moment's quiet. Anyara's face betrayed her impatience.

  'Even if you just point us in the right direction . . .' she began, only to be cut off by Yvane's raucous clearing of her throat.

  'Excuse me,' the na'kyrim said. 'The wet and cold up here lie heavy upon my chest sometimes. Especially when I'm thinking.'

  They lapsed into a tense silence. Orisian and Anyara glanced uneasily at one another.

  'Did he still have that crow? What happened to it?' asked Yvane. Idrin,' said Orisian. 'He sent him away. Told him to go home, I think.'

  Yvane nodded as if Orisian had confirmed something she already knew. 'Then they will know by now, at Highfast, that he is dead.'

  She was deep in thought for long moments, and neither Orisian nor Anyara dared to disturb her. Orisian's eyes wandered, drifting over the uneven surface of the walls. He gazed at the fig
ures painted there: animals and people delineated with simple, broad strokes. It was crude work, but suited to this flrelit setting. It might have come from an ancient, unformed world.

  'Do you know about the Sky Pilgrims?' Yvane asked him.

  'I've never heard of them,' Orisian said.

  'Ah, there's no finer example of the rock-headed foolishness of your race. You know, at least, the story that one of the First Race's crimes against the Gods was supposed to be stealing fire from the roof of the world? Well, in the very early years of the Kingships there were those who thought they could persuade the Gods to return by repeating that journey in penance. They were the Sky Pilgrims. Dozens of them marched through here on their way to the Tan Dihrin. It was not a belief that prospered; hardly a surprise given that most of its followers must have met rather miserable deaths.'

  'And they made these drawings on their way there,' Orisian said.

  'I think so. I can't make much sense of them, but then sense was not the most prominent of the Sky Pilgrims' qualities.'

  'You should not speak so harshly of the dead,' muttered Anyara. 'I'm sure they were only doing what they thought was right.'

  To Orisian's surprise, that made Yvane hesitate.

  'Perhaps they were,' she said. 'Inurian's rubbed off on you, I see. He often scolded me for being too impatient of Huanin - and Kyrinin -- failings. Told me I should wait until I had rid myself of every flaw before going around picking at everyone else's.' She smiled distantly, as if pleased by the memory.

  Rothe came bursting into the chamber then. He brought snowflakes with him, and the cold of the outside world that Orisian had almost forgotten existed. The shieldman had a grave expression.

  'Come,' he said. 'I think I saw someone. Younger eyes might be better than mine.'

  Orisian and Anyara followed him. Yvane did not move from her fireside place, silently stirring the ashes as the fire began to falter. Every step down the short passageway brought the sound of the wind closer. When they emerged on to the dais of rock outside it was to find the sky obscured by flat and featureless grey clouds, the air filled with windblown snow. Mists and fogs were seething around the ridges to the south and west. Orisian raised a hand to shield his face.