Tamlyn

by James Moloney

  ‘What has he done to you?’ I murmured. I had taken too long to come for him. Those weeks in Haywode while Ryall recovered from his injuries, while Tamlyn made his mighty sword — I shouldn’t have dallied. As soon as Miston came with his news, I should have acted; I should have gone with him when he returned to Vonne and found my own way to rescue Lucien. Now, I was too late. The Wyrdborn nature inside him had broken free.

  The fighting grew louder as the surviving dog became more desperate.

  ‘Enough! Finish it,’ cried Geran.

  Tamlyn ignored her. ‘Again,’ he taunted the beast. ‘Fill the mines with your roaring.’

  I saw a blade flash through the yellow light — Geran’s as she joined the battle. The dog somehow sensed her approach and, rather than lunging at her, backed away in a clear sign that it was beaten, despite its snarling. Tamlyn responded immediately, stepping close to the cowering dog. In a thrust that he could have delivered long before, he found the beast’s heart. A final terrible yelp and then the animal lay dead, bringing an equally terrible silence.

  Tamlyn stood over the body, his face filled with the glee of triumph — a hateful triumph in my eyes. There was more than relief in his face, more even than the glow of victory; there was a pleasure in the fighting itself, and in that I found a match for the inhuman joy Lucien had shown in watching him.

  Geran said nothing, but her distaste for the prolonged battle was there to see in her eyes. Was it a response that only women shared? Ryall saw only a brave victory: he went straight to Tamlyn’s side, congratulated him, then led him to the fire where a kettle of water would help to wash the blood away. Lucien waddled off on his short little legs to join them, as boisterous in victory as any man.

  My own gaze fell on the woman who’d remained all this time with her back against the wall of the alcove. ‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’ I asked.

  Her name was Rosa, but she was wary of me and reluctant to say any more until I exchanged my frown for a smile that didn’t match my mood. She sat up more comfortably then and, since Lucien was more interested in Tamlyn, I took my place beside her.

  ‘I’ve lived in Vonne all my life,’ she explained. ‘Never been in trouble with the guardians, not once, and then, without any cause at all, those two men carried me off while my poor children watched. Only the men weren’t guardians at all, as I soon found out. Instead of taking me to Chatiny’s dungeons, they dragged me down a laneway and then some steps into a world I’d only ever heard of. Horrible …’

  ‘The City of Lost Souls,’ I said.

  She nodded. ‘That was frightening enough, but then they brought me here where the great Wyrdborn was waiting.’

  ‘Coyle?’

  ‘Yes, Lord Coyle himself. The child was here already, and Coyle told me to feed him, keep him clean and healthy. I begged to go back to my own children, but he wouldn’t listen. The boy was all that mattered.’

  ‘Lucien. His name is Lucien.’

  ‘Is it? Lord Coyle didn’t tell me his name. He’s a strange child — eats more than three children his age. And there’s something unusual about that, too — his age, I mean. He’s growing so fast. There are other things I’ve noticed. He …’ She searched for words to describe what she’d seen and found only one that could do the job. ‘He is a Wyrdborn, like Coyle. I did what I could, was kind to him as if he was one of my own, but there is no love in him.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ I snapped, but I feared she was right. Too late, you’ve come too late, Silvermay, I cursed again.

  My sharp reply had shaken her and instead of telling me more, she began to plead. ‘You’ll take me back to my children, won’t you? You won’t leave me here. Coyle will kill me, and I won’t be the first. It’s terrible the things that go on down here.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Fighting, killing. Out there.’ She pointed towards the pillars and the open expanses of the mine. ‘You will take me with you?’

  ‘All right, all right,’ I said, to stop her wailing. ‘Tell me about the fighting.’

  ‘Poor wretches dragged down from the streets, like me. I’m luckier than they were, I suppose — he wanted me for a nursemaid. The men, they had to fight one another with swords, with their bare hands. I didn’t see it, but I could hear them — the screams, the pitiful shouts for mercy. Then those monsters your man just killed were set loose on them and they were the worst sounds of all.’

  She wept at the memories that would surely haunt her long after she was returned to her family.

  ‘And that little boy,’ she said, nodding at Lucien who remained by the fire, ‘so young and yet he was made to watch it all. Each time another victim was dragged in, Lord Coyle would come for the boy like a father taking his son to the circus.’

  The woman had no idea of the truth she had just spoken. I climbed to my feet, unable to bear listening to any more.

  Beyond the fire, Coyle’s two guards lay huddled against the far wall of the alcove. I didn’t want to think about their fate once their master found his prize had been snatched from under their noses. Everything had gone better than we could have hoped for. Yes, there was still the return through a dark realm I would rather not think about, but with freedom waiting on the other side, and a journey to Erebis Felan beckoning once we’d slipped out of the city, I was eager to get started.

  I wasn’t the only one. Ryall watched me approach, his smile as wide as the alcove itself. He was ready to leave as soon as Tamlyn gave the word.

  Geran was doing her bit to hurry things along. She had rinsed the blood from Tamlyn’s precious sword and now held it reverently, the silver tip protruding between thumb and forefinger of her right hand.

  ‘You made this weapon yourself,’ I heard her say to Tamlyn.

  ‘Yes, with a special purpose in mind. Its weight is designed for me alone.’ And he took it from her like a child who doesn’t want anyone else to play with his toys.

  Another set of eyes was admiring the sword and the man who now slipped it onto his belt — Lucien’s. He was too young to understand what a brother was, but not too young, it seemed, to know he stood beside a great warrior.

  ‘You killed the dogs,’ he said, in a voice as clear and confident as that of a child three times his size.

  Geran dropped to one knee to study him more closely. ‘You are the one,’ she said softly. ‘You are the reason we’ve come into this hell.’

  I’d arrived at her side by this time and she turned to me. ‘I can feel the Wyrdborn in him, more strongly than I have ever known it. There’s no doubt he is the child foretold by my people. To think that such destruction can come from one being, and he has begun so small, like any other human.’ Her eyes ranged over him in a mixture of fascination and awe.

  ‘The mosaics are pictures on a wall; they are not the future,’ I reminded her.

  ‘Of course,’ she murmured and broke away from her study of Lucien.

  Like me and Ryall, Geran was waiting for Tamlyn to give the word. It couldn’t be long in coming now that he’d cleaned the dogs’ blood from his arms and stood drying himself with a cloth he’d found by the fire.

  ‘Lucien,’ I called to the little figure that watched his every move. ‘Come to me. I’m going to carry you back into the light.’

  He turned towards me and seemed to recognise me for the first time since he’d said my name earlier. I saw a softness return to his eyes that had disappeared when he’d heard the dogs roaring their fury. He took a step in my direction, hesitated, then took another. I stretched out both arms towards him, smiling and he came to me and let me pick him up, his body no longer rigid. Yes, it would take a little while, after what Coyle had done to him, but he would be my boy again.

  With his hands dry, Tamlyn stood in the mouth of the alcove, searching left and right, showing the caution of a good leader. But instead of calling to us to get moving, he turned back to Rosa and said, ‘How often does Coyle come to visit the boy?’

  ‘He’s bee
n six times — twice just to check that he was safe, and four times to watch the fighting.’

  ‘When was the last time?’

  ‘I can’t say. It’s difficult to tell when there’s no sun to measure time.’

  Tamlyn seemed frustrated by this answer. ‘Which direction does he come from?’ he snapped in a voice that made the poor woman jump.

  She pushed herself to her feet and joined him where he stood looking out into the forest of stone pillars, although she kept a distance, clearly frightened of him. She knew he was a Wyrdborn and to her there was only one kind.

  ‘That way,’ she said, pointing.

  ‘Tamlyn, shouldn’t we start back as soon as we can?’ I asked.

  Geran agreed. ‘We should leave now!’

  Ryall was happy to take this as an order and slipped past Tamlyn and into the gloom. Rosa wasn’t slow to follow him, and the pair had reached the second row of pillars before they realised the rest of us hadn’t moved.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I demanded of Tamlyn. ‘You’re holding us back. Why?’

  ‘You’re right, Silvermay. No more delay. It’s time you started back.’

  ‘Lead the way, then. Guide us safely home.’

  ‘You don’t need me to find your way back. Geran can see you safely through the City of Lost Souls.’

  I knew what he was planning; accepting it was another matter. ‘We came to find Lucien and we have succeeded, more easily than we could have hoped for.’

  ‘You came for Lucien,’ he said calmly. ‘I came to find my father.’

  ‘You made a promise,’ I reminded him.

  ‘And I’ve stood by that promise, Silvermay. The boy is in your arms, and if you do as I say, you’ll soon have him out of here, out of Vonne and on his way to Erebis Felan. I’ve played my part as I said I would. Now I go my own way.’

  He would not look at me and there was shame in the way he stood.

  ‘Go,’ he said. ‘The others are waiting. Take Lucien before Coyle comes to see what has enraged the dogs. Do you think I took so long to kill them because I enjoyed their torment?’

  ‘You wanted Coyle to hear their barking echoing along the tunnels.’

  ‘And he succeeded,’ Geran said, staring out of the alcove towards the stone columns.

  Two figures moved slowly between the pillars, making no attempt to remain hidden. The Wyrdborn didn’t need to sneak up on their enemies, and I would know these two as Wyrdborn even if they’d been mere dots on the horizon. Tamlyn had been granted his wish, for striding towards us were his half-brother, Hallig, and their father, Coyle.

  19

  Steel and Stone

  Ryall returned to the alcove, with Rosa scurrying at his heels. ‘The master himself. We’re as good as dead,’ she wailed.

  I was more interested in Ryall’s response. I doubted he had eyes for Coyle; it was the sight of Hallig that would have tensed every muscle in his body, for he was looking at his torturer, the man who had so badly injured his left arm and then left him for dead. Tamlyn wasn’t the only one eager for revenge.

  Coyle and Hallig were only twenty paces off now. They drew their swords, prompting Tamlyn to do the same.

  ‘Back into the alcove, all of you,’ he said.

  ‘Tamlyn, no, they’re too strong,’ I called.

  ‘Take the baby out of Coyle’s reach, Silvermay,’ said Geran and, drawing the sword from her belt, she stood shoulder to shoulder with Tamlyn.

  ‘What’s this? The commonfolk think they can take on the Wyrdborn, do they? And a mere wisp of a fellow, too!’

  It was Hallig who spoke so contemptuously, and no sooner had he finished than he launched himself at Geran, his sword swinging with enough force to cut ten men in half.

  She leapt aside faster than my eyes could follow, leaving his sword to slice through nothing but air, and already her own blade was sweeping round towards him. If Hallig hadn’t brought up his sword in defence, he would have suffered a painful gash to the side of his face. His sneer was gone now, replaced by wariness and confusion, and he backed away a few paces.

  He quickly had a new problem to contend with — balls of fiery red were being lobbed towards him, making him dance first one way then the other. When one caught in the collar of his jacket, he howled in pain and used his free hand to brush it away. At first, I thought this was Geran’s magic at work. But no, there was a simpler explanation. Ryall had dipped his iron hand into the fire and closed his fingers around the glowing embers. I watched as he flung more coals at Hallig, making him back away even further.

  ‘I knew there’d be an advantage to this hand one day,’ Ryall called to me, holding it up as though he’d won a prize at the spring fair.

  Tamlyn wasn’t so easily impressed. ‘This is between Coyle and me,’ he said, his eyes on his father and no one else. ‘Geran, take the others back the way we came in, the baby especially. He can’t fall into Coyle’s hands again.’

  Even if I couldn’t see Geran’s face, I sensed her reluctance. But there could be only one commander if we hoped to survive and she signalled for the rest of us to come close. Making herself our shield, she edged into the open space beneath the pillars.

  ‘Don’t let them leave,’ said Coyle without taking his eyes from Tamlyn.

  Hallig moved instantly, striding between the pillars until he stood in our way. Geran changed direction, with us at her back, but Hallig moved as well, blocking the path we must follow to reach the City of Lost Souls. Unless one or the other attacked, we were trapped in this odd stalemate. What now?

  The answer was swift in coming. A ferocious clash of steel sent sparks bursting from behind one of the pillars and two figures emerged into view: Coyle on the charge, Tamlyn careful of his footing as he backed away.

  The slightest flaw in the steel of Tamlyn’s sword would have seen it shatter under Coyle’s onslaught. Perhaps this was in Tamlyn’s mind, too, that a sword made by his own unpractised hands might not be up to the job. But it withstood Coyle’s attack and, with his workmanship proven, his confidence in the blade grew.

  The two men came together, sword against sword, chest against chest. Then each pushed the other away with all the Wyrdborn force at his disposal, and with harrowing results. Each crashed into a pillar of stone, causing the ground to shake. From above came the sharp crack of fracturing rock and stones fell about them, followed by a shower of dust.

  The fighters shook the powdery dust from their clothing and when he could see again through the pale clouds, Tamlyn slashed at his father. He wasn’t quite fast enough and had to duck to avoid a savage swipe in return. Coyle’s sword slammed into another pillar, shaking more rocks free.

  ‘Tamlyn will kill him,’ said Ryall beside me.

  ‘I just want him to stay alive.’

  ‘But Coyle tried to kill you, Silvermay. Don’t you want revenge?’

  ‘Me! I have no weapon that can hurt him.’

  ‘Except what you hold in your hands,’ said Ryall, nodding at Lucien.

  My heart sank. Even Ryall saw Lucien as a weapon more than a little boy. I hugged the child’s warm flesh more tightly, as though to ward off such a fate, but he didn’t like being squeezed and pushed my arms away. Through it all, he didn’t take his eyes off the clash of swords and I sensed his fascination, as though the fearsome spectacle excited him.

  I moved quickly behind the nearest pillar and pressed my back against the stone.

  ‘Not here, out there,’ he complained, pointing to where we’d been standing.

  ‘We’re safer here.’

  ‘But I want to see the fighting.’

  While we argued, the battle became more intense. Again, someone thundered into a column of stone and this time the splintering sounds were more ominous. Great chunks of rock, big enough to crush my skull, fell from the roof. Thank the gods, they thudded into the ground well away from us, but who could tell where others might rain down. I bent my head and shoulders over Lucien in the only protection I could offer him
.

  This was the last thing he wanted from me. He squirmed and kicked in my arms. ‘Let me go, Silvermay.’

  ‘No, it’s better to stay here out of the way,’ and I tightened my grip.

  Almost immediately, I felt my arms pushed outwards, forcing me to release Lucien. I locked my hand over my wrist, but my hold burst open, as though little Lucien was growing larger. As soon as he slipped to the ground, free, the odd pressure disappeared and my arms slapped together so suddenly that I cried out in fright. The little rascal had used dark magic on me. The shock left me unable to think for a moment and he took this chance to run out from behind the pillar.

  ‘Lucien,’ I called after him.

  With my muscles working properly once more, I swept round the corner only to find he’d come to a halt not far away, his eyes riveted on the fighting. He sensed me behind him and ran off again, like a naughty child. He was a naughty child, but one who could overpower any adult who tried to restrain him. Ignoring the clash of steel against steel, I followed him along the line of pillars until he stopped again, halfway between me and Coyle Strongbow, only twenty paces away. Coyle, his back against a pillar, his chest heaving with the effort of battle, hadn’t noticed us yet. If we stayed perfectly still, he might not look this way.

  As I waited, pleading with the gods that he would move off before he spotted us, it struck me that I had never seen such an expression on Coyle’s face. Even when pretending to be Miston Dessar, he had exuded supreme confidence. That look was gone now and I knew in that instant that he was losing the battle against his son.

  Tamlyn appeared between the pillars, his jerkin shredded where he’d scraped against solid stone, the rest of his body showing the nicks and bruises of where he had clashed with Coyle. Yet he seemed light on his feet still and, despite the heaving of his chest, had enough breath for words.

  ‘Do you see my sword, Father?’ he called. ‘Made with my own hands. Take it from me and you can kill me here and now.’