North Star Guide Me Home

by Jo Spurrier

  Is the attack still coming?

  It’s over, he said. They’re in retreat, with our soldiers pushing them back. I doubt they’ll regroup, but I suppose it comes down to what they fear more — failing their mission, or facing another round of carnage.

  I suppose so, Sierra replied. Well, Cam and I are heading back as swiftly as we can. We ought to be there by mid-morning. If they do try another round, I hope we’ll be close enough to make a difference.

  Mid-morning? What … what time is it now?

  A little after midnight, I think.

  Past midnight? It felt like only an hour or so since he’d left the camp in the last of the sunlight.

  When he said nothing, Sierra went on. What happened? Why can I reach you now? You’re making more sense than you have in a long time, and I’m cursed glad for it.

  I can’t explain it. Ask Rasten, he understands it better than I do.

  I can’t, he’s shut me out. He only spoke to me to pass on word, and now I can’t reach him — I just found you instead. How … how are you?

  I don’t know, he said again. Sirri, I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t know what I am anymore.

  It’ll be alright, she said. You’re getting better, getting stronger. That’s what matters. Anything else, we can deal with it.

  He looked down. It was too dark to make out the bloodstains, but he could smell the way it seeped into the cloth, could feel the peculiar stiffness of it, despite the effort of the rain to wash the filth away.

  She didn’t know what he was, or she didn’t care. He couldn’t be certain which — he only knew she wasn’t the same girl he’d held in Demon’s Spire. The things she’d survived since then had tempered her, like steel in a blacksmith’s forge, leaving her hard, cold and vicious. If she’d been here, she’d have slaughtered the Akharians without a second thought, a moment of hesitation.

  I need to get back to camp, he said at last. Delphine must be worried.

  Yes, alright. Call for me if you need anything. I have power —

  I don’t need it. I have plenty.

  Perhaps that’s why you’re thinking clearly … but now that the barrier’s gone I can send you some whenever you need it, at least until you’ve healed.

  Healed? Sirri, I lost the cursed arm weeks ago. It’s all scarred over —

  It’s not the arm, it’s the blood you lost. Rasten said it’d take time to recover. By the Black Sun, I wish he’d answer me … but I suspect that the power you’ve taken in is filling in the gaps, as it were.

  Really? Well, I suppose we can test the theory now … alright, Sirri. I’ll see you in the morning.

  Fare well, Isidro.

  She broke the contact, and he was alone in the chill mud. The solitude came as something of a relief.

  It seemed the sentries had been told to watch for him, for once he came close enough to be recognised they greeted him by name and he noted a runner pelting away through the throngs of people.

  He’d gone only a little way when his back prickled, the sigil seared beneath his skin suddenly flaring with heat. Isidro slowly turned on his heel to find Delphine watching him. Her eyes were wide as she looked him over, and she started towards him, boots skidding over the slick ground.

  At first she reached for him with arms outstretched, but rather than let her embrace him and cover herself in gore, Isidro took a half-step back, raising his hand to ward her off.

  She came to a skidding halt, hurt clear on her face. But then, someone hurried past with a flickering lantern and under the stronger light there was no mistaking the blood and gore clinging to his clothes.

  Delphine raised a hand to her mouth. ‘By all the Gods,’ she said. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘I’m not. None of it’s mine.’

  She tried to keep her gaze on his face, but it kept tracking down to the filth crusting his jacket.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘for making you worry.’

  A peculiar expression crossed her face, fear mingled with anger. She took a step forward, fists bunched, but the sight of his scorched and bloody clothing and his blistered and bloody face seemed to ward her away. ‘Good Goddess preserve us,’ she said. ‘Isidro, what have you done?’

  Sierra ran a hand over her tangled hair as she looked over the rain-washed camp. ‘Looks promising,’ she said to Cam.

  He made a happy grunt, gazing down at the motley collection of tents. It was one thing to hear that the attack had been thwarted, but another to see the camp whole, even as ragged and shabby as it was.

  Already, a small party was hurrying out to meet them. She glanced at Cam, and found his eyes already tracking the horses. ‘Let’s head down,’ Cam said.

  The riders met them before they crested the next rise, led by one of Rouldin’s young officers, a lad who kept tripping over his tongue in his haste to report. Cam was more patient with the fellow than Sierra could have managed, listening carefully and gesturing him to silence instead of breaking into his rattling spiel. ‘What are the Akharians doing?’

  ‘Milling around to the west, sir. The scouts say they’re in disarray.’

  ‘I see. What word on casualties?’

  ‘A few score wounded, sir, with a handful dead. For the enemy, Commander Rouldin reports something in the order of two thousand, sir, although our warriors can’t account for more than half.’

  ‘Half?’

  ‘Yessir, at best. The rest of them … well, your brother did for the rest of them, sir, as near as we can tell.’

  Cam straightened with a toss of his head. ‘Half?’ he said again. ‘A thousand men, truly?’ He sent a glance to Sierra. Cam knew she could handle such a number, but Isidro … they’d left him little more than a shell.

  ‘I suppose Rasten could deal with so many, nearly as easily as you could,’ Cam said.

  ‘Mm. And Issey had help from that quarter, don’t forget.’

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘Oh, I won’t. Believe me.’ He turned back to the young officer. ‘What has he said about what happened?’

  ‘Lord Isidro, sir? I … I’m afraid he hasn’t spoken to anybody. Madame Delphine said he was to be left alone.’

  ‘Alright,’ Cam said. ‘I’ll see him and Delphine first. Tell Rouldin I’ll speak to him shortly.’

  Folk came out to meet them, greeting Cam and Sierra with shouts and ragged cheers. They’d probably had no more sleep than she, Sierra thought.

  A runner had alerted Delphine to their arrival, and she was waiting outside the commander’s tent when they drew near. She started forward before they’d even reined in, and her brief smile of welcome swiftly faded, leaving her face haggard and grim.

  ‘Delphi,’ Cam said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. ‘How did you fare?’

  ‘Oh, I’m well enough. I expect you know the soldiers never came near the camp.’

  ‘So I heard. But how’s Issey? I was told …’ He started towards the tent, but Delphine caught his arm. ‘He’s not in there.’

  Delphine led them to the rear of the tent, where fuel was stacked and meals cooked, with a small picket for horses.

  The area was deserted, except for a dark-haired figure near the cook-fire, perched on the tongue of a wagon with his legs stretched out towards the flames.

  Cam strode ahead when he realised where Delphine was taking them. ‘Issey?’ he called, and the figure straightened and stood, moving more swiftly and surely than Sierra had seen in an age.

  The left side of Isidro’s face was a mask of old blood and dirt. It was hard to see just how badly he was wounded under the filthy crust, but Sierra made out a splash of fresh blood across his cheekbone, and a scattering of blisters over his eye. His clothes were little better — shredded and charred where they weren’t matted with blood. Even at this distance Sierra could smell the reek of scorched wool and leather, together with the scent of old gore.

  The look he gave them both was wide-eyed, but then he let his face go impassive, like a man after a judgement, resi
gned to his fate.

  Cam strode across to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Sierra hung back as he steered his brother away from them, their heads close. For a moment they spoke — or rather, Cam did, for Isidro made only the briefest answers to whatever Cam was saying, his voice pitched too low for her to hear.

  Then Cam pulled back, beckoning Sierra with a nod of his head.

  At that gesture, her stomach clenched. She wanted to refuse, to retreat. This wasn’t the shell of a man they’d left behind. This was something else.

  Power was clinging to him like cobwebs. It was odd to feel it so clearly. The last time she’d been so aware of another’s power was the morning Rasten had waited for her at the mouth of Demon’s Spire.

  Sierra started towards him as Cam stepped back. ‘Look, I have to find out what’s happening out there, but I’ll be back, alright?’

  Isidro nodded, and with a duck of his head Cam strode back the way they’d come. After a moment’s hesitation, Delphine went after him, one hand pressed to the small of her back.

  Isidro turned to Sierra, and they regarded each other in silence. Then, moving slowly and stiffly, Isidro returned to his seat on the wagon tongue.

  She didn’t know what to say. He didn’t talk to her these days. Feeling lost, Sierra crouched down to warm her hands over the flames.

  ‘Sirri …’ he said. The sound of her name sent a shiver down her back. She’d longed to hear it from his lips …

  She twisted around to meet his gaze.

  ‘Is that what it’s like for you?’ he said. ‘The blood. The noise. The heat and the flames and the screaming.’

  She looked down at the mud-churned turf, and nodded. ‘You used to fight in battles. Weren’t they the same? I always thought —’

  ‘Not the same. You don’t get the power, the roar of it, like a storm inside of you. And I never fought in wars, like this. Skirmishes, not battlefields a thousand strong.’

  ‘You get used to it,’ Sierra said. ‘At least you’re thinking clearly now, and they won’t try that trick again.’

  ‘Hmm,’ he said.

  Her legs ached too much to stay crouched on the soft mud. She moved to perch beside him. He inched away, and Sierra couldn’t tell if he was making room or edging away from her. Then he saw her studying the old blood crusted on his jacket and dropped his gaze with a flush.

  ‘You’d feel better if you got out of those rags,’ she said.

  ‘Maybe. But I wanted you to see what I’ve done.’

  ‘What you did? Isidro, you saved the camp. They lured us away, me and Cam, and we fell for it like a fox stalking a feigning plover. If you hadn’t been here, if you hadn’t turned to Rasten …’

  ‘I tried to reach you first,’ Isidro said. ‘I couldn’t find you. I understand why, now, I think. Could you … could you reach me?’

  ‘Not for a while now,’ Sierra said. ‘You … you made it clear you didn’t want me to.’

  He raised a hand to his face, and winced as he found the mask of blood and dirt. ‘I … I wasn’t thinking clearly —’

  ‘I know,’ Sierra said, ‘but it’s fixed now.’

  ‘Mm,’ Isidro said, staring out across the forest of grey tents. ‘So … does this mean I’m a Blood-Mage now?’

  Sierra shook her head. ‘No. Blood Magic is something you do, not what you are.’

  ‘Then what else could I be? Last night —’

  ‘How much of that was you, and how much Rasten? Could you have done it without him? And I know for a fact that he didn’t teach you how to do it. He’d sooner die than pass on Kell’s lore.’

  Isidro scrubbed a hand through his hair with a sigh and leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees. It was the first time Sierra had seen him do such a thing with his truncated right arm.

  He held his left hand before him, and as he clenched it into a fist Sierra felt a sharp tug at the column of energy wrapped around her spine. Power coalesced around his fist, a red glow, somewhere between the hue of fresh blood and bright flame. With the pull of it, the aching of weary muscles grew deeper.

  ‘He didn’t teach me,’ Isidro said. ‘But that doesn’t mean I didn’t learn a thing or two.’

  Sierra felt her hands clench, and her heart started to beat harder. ‘If you want power, just ask for it,’ she said, trying to keep her voice even.

  He turned dark, impassive eyes on her. He expected her to break the contact, Sierra realised — he didn’t know that the time she’d spent with Kell and Rasten had conditioned her not to resist. Even after they’d wrenched free of Kell’s grasp, she hadn’t broken that conditioning. ‘Issey, stop. Please.’

  ‘I …’ Sweat had broken out across his brow. ‘I can’t …’

  She clenched her teeth. Gathering her power made her shirt feel instantly damp, her mouth as dry as a desert. Don’t fall for it, a small, fearful voice in the back of her head said. It’s a trick, he’ll make you pay —

  Shut up, she growled at herself. He’s dead and gone. She clenched down on her power and snapped the tendril that had grown into her like a sucker-vine.

  His power snarled in fury at being thwarted, rearing back to lash at her, but it was a small, weak thing, half-starved, despite the feast that had fuelled it last night. Her power was a different beast entirely. Once the sucker-vine was uprooted, that conditioning to passivity simply fell away, and her power turned with the fury of a tiger taunted by jays. With a roar it smacked that small, snarling beast down.

  Isidro doubled over, snatching at the wagon-tongue for balance, his shoulders wracked with shudders.

  Once she had her power firmly in hand, she reached for him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I don’t know how to do it gently. Kell taught me not to do it, ever, and it’s hard to go against the training.’

  As she spoke, she let some power flow into him, and felt his body grow warm under her hands. She’d scattered his power, and she didn’t want to leave him dry when it was helping him think clearly at last.

  It took long moments for his shivering to subside. ‘Don’t apologise,’ he said at last. ‘I didn’t mean to do it, not like that, and then I couldn’t stop … by the Black Sun, Sirri, what is this? I don’t even know what I am anymore.’

  ‘Hush,’ she said. ‘It’ll be alright. You’re the same man you always were.’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You are!’

  He bowed his head, eyes squeezed closed, his voice hoarse. ‘Sirri … I don’t want to be a monster.’

  ‘You’re not! I know what happened to you, Issey, I felt it. It was just a dirty trick Kell pulled to get the upper hand. Do you think that one moment makes you like him, or like Rasten?’

  ‘But it’s in me now, Sirri. The taint is bone-deep. There’s no way to dig it out. I don’t know how to handle this! How do you bear it?’

  She pressed her face against his arm; temple and cheek against the coarse, scratching wool. ‘I … I don’t know. It’s … it has always been this way. I know Delphine said Kell corrupted me, but I don’t remember a time I didn’t draw power from pain. I never wanted to hurt anyone, but by all the Gods, when they came after me I’d be cursed if I didn’t use everything I have to defend myself! Isidro, none of us can help the way we’re made. Having this power doesn’t make you a Blood-Mage. It’s what you do with it that counts.’

  He unknotted his hand from the wagon-tongue, and rested his elbow on his knee, burying his face in his palm. ‘What about where it comes from?’ Isidro said. ‘Where does that factor into it? I’ve always been able to draw power from others, but it’s stronger now. I just wanted you to see, and I lost control. What if I did it to Delphine, or the baby? When I woke up in that cursed gorge I was lost in fog, but I knew that little mite was in her belly. If I harm a helpless babe, Sirri, I —’

  ‘You’ll master it. Isidro, I’m convinced there’s nothing you can’t do if you put your mind to it. I’ll help you as much as I can.’

  He gazed down at her
. ‘How?’ he demanded. ‘How can you teach me? Your power follows different rules, it always has —’

  ‘I … I know. I wish I could do more. I’m sorry, Issey.’

  His eyes turned cold. For a brief moment, Sierra felt very small and very aware of her travel-stained clothes and her tangled hair. ‘You say that a lot,’ he said.

  The words hit her like a slap to the face. She tried not to flinch and drew a ragged breath. ‘It’s the truth. Would it be better not to say it? I’m just … I’m doing the best I can, same as you.’

  He looked her over, biting his lip. He seemed about to speak, but then he turned away.

  ‘What?’ Sierra said.

  ‘Nothing. Never mind. Look, I should get cleaned up. I stink like a cursed charnel-house.’

  She knew a dismissal when she heard one. Sierra stood, wiping her sweaty hands on her trousers. In truth, the reek of old blood threatened to take her right back to Kell’s dungeons. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ she said, and walked away. She made herself keep her back straight, her head up. Only when she was out of his sight did she let herself wipe away the spilling tears.

  Isidro sat there for some time, wondering at how he felt so hollow, so empty. Part of him wanted to call Sierra back, to wrap his arms around her and lose himself in her as he had so many times before … but another part wanted to curse her with every name under the Twin Suns. He wouldn’t be here now if she hadn’t come into his life. Where he would be was impossible to say … but it would be anywhere but here, with the remains of last night’s slaughter still seething in the pit of his belly.

  It’s not her fault, Isidro told himself. It’s no one’s fault. The avalanche falls, and you hope to be thrown clear … but if not, there’s nothing to do but dig yourself out, or else wait for the Black Sun to take you.

  He forced himself to his feet, and hunted around until he found a bucket of water and a cake of soap that had been left out for laundry. Isidro stripped off, throwing his filthy and stinking clothes into the flames before setting to work with soap and water. It was only then that he remembered he had nothing to replace them with — and by then there was nothing to be done but shrug and get on with it.