North Star Guide Me Home

by Jo Spurrier

  Rasten. You were Kell’s slave for more than a decade, and he’s been dead less than a year. You’re expecting too much, too soon.

  It’s been a lifetime. I just want it to be over. I’m so tired, Isidro. I played the part you needed of me, I did it right. I know what I’m good for. You have Sirri, you have your brother — you don’t need me anymore! Just let me go, please. I’m so weary of the pain — you know what it’s like. I just want it to stop.

  I know we used you to get Cam back, Isidro said. I’m sorry for that. I wish there had been another way.

  Used me? Of course you did, but what of it? That’s the way things have always been between us. I used Sirri to destroy Kell, I used you to keep her on track when she could have turned aside from the chase to lick her wounds. Using me now is only fair. I don’t begrudge you that.

  Then what … no, wait. I see. You’ve been planning this for days, haven’t you? Ever since the night the Akharians attacked. You just didn’t show it.

  Rasten said nothing. He couldn’t imagine what Isidro wanted from him. Of course he hadn’t shown it. You didn’t show things like that.

  Ever since that night, I’ve been wondering if I should have let you work that ritual, Isidro went on.

  Let me? You couldn’t have stopped me. She was dying.

  I know. In your place, I’d have done the same. You used the weapons you had, I don’t blame you for that. I know there’s little I wouldn’t sacrifice for her.

  Rasten shifted his head to stare down into the well of darkness. More than anything, he was grateful he’d had one last chance to hold her in his arms. I know I’m a broken man, he said, but I do love her. I loved her the best I could. I hope she knows that.

  She does. Rasten, move away from the edge.

  He gritted his teeth, and leant towards it, letting one arm dangle over the lip along with his wounded leg. The void was calling to him, full of soft, warm darkness. Perhaps he’d see his family again. Perhaps he would have a chance to ask their forgiveness for what had happened. Perhaps, at last, he’d be able to remember them without pain.

  Rasten!

  Don’t try to stop me, he said. I may be wounded and weak, but I’m still stronger than you.

  Isidro ignored the threat. Do you remember that night in the Akharian camp, just after I was made a slave? When I tried to tear my throat out with a shard of broken pot?

  Rasten remembered. He blinked in the darkness and said nothing.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. The pain, the torture, a future without hope. It would never get better, I knew it, right down in my bones. Sirri and Cam were lost to me, and there was no way out of the snare I’d been caught in. I just wanted it to stop.

  Rasten gritted his teeth, and heaved himself up. The stone ledge beneath him shifted with an ominous crack.

  You wouldn’t let me do it. I hated you then. I cursed your name to the Black Sun, that night and every night for months afterwards.

  Rasten growled under his breath. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He didn’t want to throw himself off the ledge. He was supposed to slip into a doze, worn down by exhaustion and pain. It was meant to be peaceful, not another struggle, another fight. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that it would be over. He clenched his teeth and leant into the vacant darkness. As he shifted his weight, the stone gave another sharp, percussive crack that echoed down the shaft of the ruined stairs and broke away beneath him.

  He fell, but all he could think of were birds, swooping and diving in the wind outside the window of his tower room.

  You saved my life and I hated you for it, Isidro whispered into his head. Rasten didn’t care. The darkness was warm and soft, comforting, like Sierra’s skin against his, like her hair spread across his chest.

  Now I’m going to return the favour.

  Weary and slow, Rasten tried to raise his shields. He’d always been fast and sure with shields, but Isidro slipped through them like wind through cloth, like cold through a fur. He shoved his way into Rasten’s head, bringing his own swell of power and spinning it out to form a shield —

  Then the earth swallowed him, and he was lost in darkness.

  Isidro rode into Cam’s camp in the early hours of the morning, guided by the signal fire lit on a ridgetop. There was no more need for stealth. The countryside was theirs.

  Cam came to meet him and, though his face was drawn and sombre, he couldn’t help but crack a smile as Isidro dismounted. They embraced, and Cam slapped his brother on the back, only to strike his hand against the buckle of Isidro’s shoulder-harness. He winced as he shook the sting from his hand. ‘You made good time.’

  ‘How’s Sirri?’

  ‘Breathing better than she was a few hours ago. Ardamon filled me in on what happened at the palace. She’s asleep now, but I swore I’d wake her when you got here. What did you do with the rest of your party?’

  ‘Sent them back to Lathayan with Madric in command and Delphine as chief mage. We sent word through Alameda for Mira to meet them. They should be in touch by now.’

  ‘And what about Rasten? Is he still alive?’

  ‘I think so,’ Isidro said, ‘but he’s badly wounded. The ledge gave way beneath him, but I got him shielded as he fell — just.’ He turned to the rest of his party, who were dismounting stiffly as the horses stood spraddle-legged, heads hanging by their knees. At his gesture, two women came forward. One was Rhia, her tawny curls crammed under a knitted cap. The other, Cam recognised from the attack on the royal quarters. Her features were distinctly Akharian, but her long dark hair had been bound up in braids and wrapped around her head in a northern style.

  ‘Rhia,’ Cam said, pulling her close in a quick embrace of welcome. ‘I’m glad to see you. And you,’ he turned to the other, ‘must be Nirveli.’

  She gave him a weary smile. She looked very young, younger than Sierra, but there was something familiar in the quirk of her lips, something he’d seen in the woman drawn in light on the wall in Demon’s Spire. ‘That’s me. The former ghost.’

  ‘Do you have any wounded?’ Isidro asked.

  ‘None that need tending. Sirri’s the only one in poor shape, but she’s steady for the moment.’

  Rhia nodded and glanced at Isidro. ‘Then, with your leave, I will get some rest. When Rasten is found, no doubt I will be needed.’

  ‘Good plan,’ Cam said, and signalled to a soldier waiting nearby. ‘Please show Mistress Rhia to her quarters.’

  Nirveli watched her go with a wistful expression. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll have the luxury.’

  Isidro shook his head. ‘I can give you half an hour to have a hot meal and a rest, but then I need you up on your feet.’

  ‘Slave-driver,’ she said with a faint scowl, and Cam couldn’t tell if she was serious or mocking.

  Isidro just rubbed a hand through his hair. ‘Nirveli, I know you’re tired, I am too. You’ve done a great deal today, and done it well, but I need you to keep going a little longer. Once this is done, I swear you’ll have all the time you want to rest and recover, but for now I need you. We’re counting on you.’

  Nirveli gave a small sigh and hooked her thumbs into her belt, cocking her head to study him. ‘You sound just like Vasant,’ she said, and turned to the fort. ‘Let me go and take a look, but I suspect our best way in will be through the lower passage.’

  Cam followed her with his gaze as she strolled up the hill towards the ruins, before turning back to Isidro with a shrug. ‘I’ll go get Sirri up. I think Nirveli’s right. If he fell to the lowest levels, the lower passage will give us less to cut through. I’ll come along with you.’

  ‘You don’t have to,’ Isidro said. ‘Cam, you look like you need a good rest yourself.’

  ‘There’ll be time for that later,’ Cam said. ‘I … Look, I still don’t know what to make of him from one minute to the next, but … Rasten was willing to give his life to get us out —’

  ‘Us?’ Isidro said.

  ‘Me and some folk
the Wolf were keeping prisoner. A woman and her child, a girl with mage talent … a cursed strong one from the looks of it. We crossed paths with them back when we were hunting Rasten, after we left you at Drysprings … ye gods, that feels like a long time ago now. Anyway, I mean to get him out of there, one way or another. And if we can get him out alive … well, he’s earned his second chance.’

  Epilogue

  It was dark in the new royal quarters. The painted hides hung across the horn-glazed windows kept out every bit of light, but someone had left a lantern-stone glowing within a cover of coloured glass. It cast jewel-like patterns across the whitewashed walls.

  Sierra rolled over on the feather bed. In the three weeks since the Akharian attack, the wounds between her ribs had healed over with fresh pink skin, even the short, ugly knife-wound above her breast. In time, the livid hue would fade, and she didn’t really mind the scars. Best not to, anyway. There was nothing she could do about them.

  The chamber was empty. She’d taken to sleeping late in these last few weeks. At first she’d needed to, as the wounds left her short of breath and perpetually exhausted. Rhia had told her to give her body whatever it desired, be it food, rest, clean air or power, though of course the latter relied on others being willing and able to assist her. After the collapse of the fort she’d swiftly learnt not to let her store of power run too low. Rasten might have been able to take a woman blue-lipped and gasping for breath to his furs, but Cam and Isidro were cast from a different mould and it was kinder not to challenge their sensibilities too strongly.

  Thankfully, it was all falling behind her now. Day by day, it was growing easier to take deep breaths, and she could walk further and stay upright longer without needing still more power to keep on her feet.

  She rolled over again, turning back to the lantern with its gorgeous pattern of colours. I ought to get up, she told herself. It was summer out there, true summer, and it had been years since she’d seen a northern summer — not since her family died. She’d gone without for so long, it was a shame to waste it. She had a family again, now. It was time to build new memories.

  Sierra kicked the covers aside and sat up, brushing her hair away from her face. Her back ached. Perhaps she’d been spending too much time in bed. Well, someone had said there’d be a market today, and it had been such a long time since she’d been able to just stroll through the summer sun and browse a merchant’s wares …

  She picked up yesterday’s shirt, and with the soft, creamy wool covering her to mid-thigh, tottered to the adjoining bathing chamber.

  The kettle of wash water was still hot, and the chamber was warm, too, both heated by a furnace full of bright coals. Sierra set about bathing with a bucket of hot water and a bar of milky soap that was scented with some delicate foreign perfume. She’d enjoyed it a few days ago, but that morning it seemed overpowering in the warm air.

  She had just finished washing the soap away and was wrapping herself in a sheet of linen when she heard a chest close in the outer room, and footsteps approach the chamber. She went tense, freeing her hands and gathering her power, until the door opened and Mira slipped inside.

  ‘Only me,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’re up.’ She’d come in carrying a fresh pair of trousers and underclothes, and set them down away from the damp as she drew fresh water into a basin. ‘By all the Gods, I swear, the best part of being pregnant was not having to worry about my courses. Ever since they came back I feel like a girl of fourteen again. They’re always catching me unawares.’

  ‘You … your courses have come?’ Sierra said. When were hers due? ‘Fires Below, mine must be near … I hadn’t given it a thought.’ She pulled the sheet tight around herself, and winced as her tender breasts protested at the pressure. They were certainly sensitive enough for her time to be due.

  Mira turned to her, one eyebrow raised. ‘Haven’t we matched up, these last few months? Yes, we have, I remember.’

  Still wrapped in the damp and clinging linen, Sierra bit her lip.

  Mira gestured for her to stand. ‘Let me take a look at you,’ she said.

  With a sinking feeling in the pit of her belly, Sierra stood, peeling the damp linen away from her skin to look down at herself. She’d filled out a little these last few weeks, but the folk in the kitchens had had a hand in that. Her wound, and the strife afterwards, had taken a heavy toll, leaving her gaunt and wasted and they’d made every effort to feed her at every turn.

  ‘Well,’ Mira said, ‘I was about to say they’re probably just delayed due to the wounds you took … but now, I’m not so sure.’

  Sierra laid her hands on her belly. It was a little larger, just slightly, low in the cradle of her hips. Her breasts, too; she ran her hands over them, and felt the swelling. Was it even possible that a seed of new life had taken root in the midst of such trials? ‘This … I … I can’t be pregnant after all this, surely. How on earth could it happen?’

  ‘Oh, the usual way, I’d imagine,’ Mira said. She came over and wrapped her arms around Sierra, heedless of her wet and clammy skin. ‘Sirri, are you alright?’

  She felt strange, light-headed, her belly tied up in knots. She drew a deep breath to calm herself, and only then realised that this feeling had nothing to do with her abused lungs. There was no tightness in her chest, no cloying, choking sensation beneath her ribs. She was just in shock.

  ‘Sirri?’ Mira said again, her voice worried now.

  ‘What … Mira, what if it’s Rasten’s?’

  She felt Mira go still, and for a moment she was silent. ‘It won’t matter,’ she said at last. ‘Look, even if he was still an enemy, even if he hadn’t proven himself, no decent person would blame a child for its father’s crimes. None of us can help the way we’re made. It could be his, but it’s far more likely to be Cam’s, or Isidro’s. You’ve been with both of them these last few weeks, far more times than you were with Rasten. But mostly, it’ll be yours, and ours.’

  Sierra nodded dumbly. ‘I … I’m just glad it has happened now, and not back in the west.’ She thought back to the arid sands and shivered. What would Cam have done if Rasten had got her with child back then? Or Isidro, if he’d woken after those ordeals to find her belly swollen? Everything was better now. All those old wounds were healing. ‘I could still lose it, though, couldn’t I? I’m a long way from recovered.’

  ‘That’s true. You should talk to Rhia, though I bet she’ll tell you to keep resting as much as you can and eating well. But at least the fighting’s over now. It’s a good time to have a babe.’

  As Mira patted her shoulder, Sierra closed her eyes. She’d always wanted a sister close to her in age. Wait until you’re married, her mothers had said, but for the longest time it had seemed an impossibility.

  Not anymore. She had a family. A sister, husbands, children by marriage, and maybe, a sweet little babe of her own. On one level, the idea terrified her — another person to protect, another soul to worry about when troubles came — but she couldn’t live her life ruled by fear of what might come. If the alternative to defending those you loved was loving no one and defending nothing, Sierra knew which she would choose.

  ‘Do you want to go and tell them?’ Mira asked her.

  ‘I … I don’t know. By the Black Sun, I can’t … I can’t truly believe it. We might be mistaken, after all. I could start bleeding still.’

  ‘True … well, we can keep it to ourselves for now.’ She squeezed Sierra’s shoulder. ‘Here, let me clean up, and then come have a bite to eat. A bit of bannock and a nice bowl of tea will settle your stomach. There’s no rush. The menfolk will find out soon enough.’

  Cam was up on the wall overlooking the city, but when Isidro found him he was staring out to sea as he shaded his eyes with his hand. It was an unusually clear and brilliant day in a season known for rain and fog. His guardsmen, waiting a respectful distance away, greeted Isidro with salutes and at the sound of it Cam glanced round to welcome him with a nod.

  ‘I th
ought we were supposed to have a council meeting this morning,’ Isidro said.

  ‘I postponed it. We’ve spent the better part of the last ten years trudging about the countryside through rotten weather, so I’m going to enjoy the sun while we have the chance.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Isidro said.

  ‘Mira’s set a date for the coronation, did you hear? And the wedding too, of course. It’ll be after the harvest, to give the distant clans time enough to get here. She’s been putting together the proclamations and invitations.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Isidro said. ‘What about the heralds to the Wolf Clan?’

  ‘I sent them off this morning. Not that I expect Tarya and Dremman will take the offer, but hopefully the lower houses and the rank and file will bend the knee rather than face another season of war.’

  ‘They should. I hear there was a lot of unrest about the Akharian alliance. Dremman and Tarya burned through a lot of goodwill with that stunt. They gambled and lost, and everyone knows it.’

  ‘I hope so, but my gut says we’ll still have some fighting to do before it’s all settled. Tarya might surrender, but Dremman … I doubt he’ll let himself be taken alive.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ Isidro said.

  Cam rolled his shoulders with a sigh. ‘But that’s a problem for the winter. I won’t call these folk away from their crops and herds again; the cold season is going to be lean enough as it is. That goes for the Wolf’s common folk, as well, they’re not responsible for the actions of their ruling clan. And it’ll give Ardamon some more time to get used to the idea of being chieftain. Right now he still looks a little wild-eyed every time I bring it up.’