by K J Taylor
Cardock sighed miserably. He had lost his wife, and now it felt as if he had lost his son, too.
He was very relieved when he heard the sound of wings overhead and looked up to see Skandar flying low and coming in to land on top of a smallish peak not far ahead. He was signalling to them to stop at its base and make camp.
They reached the new campsite well before sundown. It was on open land at the base of the mountain, fairly nondescript and not particularly sheltered. The trees thinned out here, and the ground was rocky.
Arenadd was waiting for them under a lone tree by a heap of tumbled rocks. Skandar was nowhere to be seen.
“Gone hunting,” Arenadd said briefly.
Cardock looked around at the others, who were already setting up camp. “So, we’re here,” he said, for lack of anything else to say. “Y Castell at last.”
Arenadd nodded and sighed. “I know this place,” he said. “This is where I was captured. Right here by this tree.” He kicked it. “Skandar insisted on coming back here for some reason, maybe because it’s a place he knows, too. He doesn’t have a territory, so this is the closest thing to familiar ground that he’s got. Now—” He sighed again. “I’d better go and find a camp spot. See you later.”
Cardock watched disconsolately as he walked off, and sat down at the base of the tree to rest his aching feet. The truth was that he simply couldn’t fathom the way Arenadd had been behaving lately. Perhaps it was the fact that he was now among other people who all knew his real name and what he had done. Having a reputation like that couldn’t be easy. If there was only some way to get him to talk about it, it might help.
Cardock stood up abruptly. There was work to do, and sitting around moping would help no-one. He willed his sore legs back into action and walked off to help with the setting up of the camp.
Caedmon and the others were busily gathering wood for their fire, and Cardock joined them. Unfortunately, the space they had chosen—right under the lone tree—had very little wood around it. Cardock told Caedmon to stay there and rest while he and the others went back the way they had come, where the trees were thicker. They reached the fringes of the forest and spread out.
The forest was already thick with other people setting up their own camps, and Cardock weaved his way among them, careful not to get in the way. Most of the obvious wood here had already been claimed, so he moved further in, where there were fewer people.
Eventually he had some luck: he came across a dead tree that had fallen some time ago and had plenty of dry branches on it. He began snapping some off, on the lookout for any larger pieces he could carry. He wouldn’t have to go any further than this; the tree was very large and had more than enough. In fact, some others had already spotted it and were coming to help themselves.
Cardock moved to the far side of the tree, searching for a good solid piece of wood. A proper fire would need a log or two if it was going to keep burning all night. He found a good-sized bough that was nearly detached from the trunk, and began to pull at it.
“—killed them.”
Cardock stopped to catch his breath and peered curiously through the branches. A couple of the men who had come to join him were talking as they gathered branches.
“Well, it only made sense,” one of them said. “If he hadn’t, we’d have bin caught, sure as fate.”
“Right enough, yeah, but it’s just, what I heard—well, I was right next door, see? And awake. Couldn’t sleep on that damned floor. I was right near the wall, an’ I heard what happened in there.”
“You said so already. What’d you hear, then?”
The first man shuddered. “It was horrible. I swear, I hear it every night when I can’t sleep. I heard these sort of—just thumping and a few yells. Hard to hear over the storm outside. Didn’t think much of it, but I heard the last one. Everything sort of died down, and then I heard this voice.”
“What’d it say, then?” said his friend.
“It was so quiet,” said the first man. “That was what scares me most. It wasn’t, like, screaming or anything. It just said, ‘Please don’t kill me. I have children. Please don’t kill me.’ And after that, nothing. Just another thump, an’ something hit the wall behind me, and after that, just silence.”
Cardock’s blood ran cold. “Oh, gods,” he whispered.
“No witnesses, then,” said the second voice. “He gave their swords to those friends of his, you know. I wondered where they come from.”
Cardock didn’t hear anything else after that. He let go of the branch and began to walk back toward the mountain. He felt strangely numb. Even calm.
Of course. It all made sense. The silence, the hiding and the tears. He’d spoken to Nolan and the others, and according to them Arenadd had behaved normally enough at Herbstitt. So why this sudden change?
Cardock cursed himself. He felt betrayed, but he also felt like a fool. Only two guards for all those slaves! And both of them trained men, hardly likely to be asleep while on duty. And he, Cardock, had believed the lie, and he had utterly failed to see or understand what he was seeing in his son after that. Not the reserve of a wanted man but the guilt of one who had killed again, and recently. A man unable to face his own father.
The sun was beginning to go down as he reached the lone tree. Caedmon was attempting to light a small heap of kindling, while Olwydd piled larger sticks around it.
Cardock stopped, breathing heavily. “Where’s Arenadd?” he said.
Caedmon looked up. “That was quick. Where’s the firewood, sir?”
“The others will bring it. Where’s Arenadd?” Cardock snapped. “I need to talk to him.”
Olwydd gave him a jaundiced look. “Lord Arenadd went around the other side of the mountain.”
Cardock nodded curtly and walked off. The mountain was a small one, but he had to walk for a while before he saw the little patch of firelight that marked Arenadd’s camp.
Skandar was still absent when he reached the spot, and Arenadd was sitting alone by the fire, poking at it with his sword point.
Cardock didn’t know what he had planned to do. He had thought of shouting at him, accusing him, even hitting him. But now, looking at Arren, it wasn’t in him to do those things. He didn’t know what to say.
Arenadd looked up. “Hello.”
Cardock moved closer. “You killed those guards.” It came out flatly, neither accusing nor questioning.
Arenadd’s expression tightened. “I did what I had to do.”
Cardock wanted to reach out, hit him or hug him, he didn’t know which. “You said you hadn’t,” he said. “You told me—”
Arenadd was avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t think there was any point in telling you. Knowing it wouldn’t have helped you. I thought you deserved some peace of mind.”
“Peace of—!” Cardock’s voice finally sharpened. “Arenadd, how could you? I can’t—what’s happened to you? You’re not the man I remember. How could you have done that? First your master, then Rannagon and all those people in the Eyrie—now this.”
Arenadd stood up. “I thought you said Rannagon deserved to die.”
“Well . . .” Cardock faltered. “You had just cause to do that. But you told me you couldn’t live with it; you told me so. But you did it again.”
“Not by choice,” Arenadd snapped. He was gripping the sword now, not pointing it at his father but nearly so. “I had to do it. To get you out of there quietly. If even one of them had lived he would have raised the alarm. They all saw me; they’d have described me to someone. Can you imagine what would have happened then? It was for safety—mine and yours.”
“Yes, but . . .” Cardock’s voice weakened. “But killing people, just like that, I don’t—it’s not like you. I never believed that you could—”
Arenadd sighed a long, tired sigh. “I know. I never believed I could either. After I killed Rannagon, I was in a kind of shock for a long time. Sometimes I almost believed I hadn’t done it, or that it was a dream I was go
ing to wake up from. But after those guards—”
“You should have said something,” Cardock said more gently. “I knew you were unhappy.”
“No,” said Arenadd. “It’s not that, Dad. It’s not that I—” He broke off, shaking his head. “It wasn’t the same this time. I killed those guards myself; Skandar couldn’t get in. I took them by surprise. Stabbed one in the back, slashed the next across the throat. The third one tried to run, but Skandar caught him. The last one surrendered, but I killed him anyway. Strangled him. He died quietly. And afterward . . .” His face was pale. “And afterward, it was—I felt—I still feel . . .”
Cardock felt his stomach cramping. “I heard you crying,” he said softly. “I know you must—”
Arenadd looked him in the eye. “I felt nothing,” he said.
There was silence between them.
“I felt nothing,” Arenadd repeated. “I felt nothing while it was happening, and I felt nothing afterward. And I still feel nothing.”
“But you were—”
“I was frightened,” said Arenadd. “I knew I should feel something, but . . .” He turned away abruptly, mumbling half to himself, “I am the man without a heart.”
Cardock felt as if the ground had vanished out from beneath him.
“Go,” Arenadd said quietly, without turning around. “Please, just leave me, Dad. I need to be alone.”
His voice was flat and distant—not hostile, or dismissive, but terribly, painfully uncaring.
Cardock stepped closer to him. “Arenadd, please, don’t do this. Don’t be like this. You can’t just hide yourself away like this. You have to talk to someone. I’m your father. Why don’t you trust me any more?”
Arenadd was silent.
“Please,” Cardock said again. “Just listen to me. You know what happened at Eagleholm. You hid yourself away then, remember? You needed help, but you didn’t look for it. Not even from your own parents.”
Arenadd turned sharply. “Why, do you think it would have helped?” he snapped. “Could you have given Eluna back to me? Can you stop me from being a murderer now? Is that it? A nice little chat and a cup of tea and everything’s all right again?”
“I’m not your enemy,” Cardock snapped back, “So stop pretending I am. I only want to help. You’re my only son, Arenadd, and I care about you.”
Arenadd’s anger died down again. “No-one can help me, Dad,” he said quietly. “Not you, not the gods, not anyone.”
“Don’t be childish,” said Cardock. “You’re a Northerner, Arenadd. Pull yourself together. There are a hundred and fifty or so men out there relying on you. If you won’t let me help you, then try and help them.”
Arenadd started as if he had just been slapped in the face. “That’s not—I am helping them. Don’t try and—”
At that moment the quiet around them was disturbed by a loud thumping and crashing from behind Cardock. He turned sharply; someone was coming, running toward them.
Arenadd raised his sword. “Who’s that?” he called.
The crashing grew louder, and Cardock moved instinctively to stand behind Arenadd as a skinny shape emerged into the firelight.
It was Torc, pale and breathless. “Sir! Sir, come quickly!”
Arenadd relaxed slightly. “What is it, Torc?”
Torc paused to hold his chest. “They’ve—someone’s found us, sir,” he said. “We’ve been seen.”
Arenadd tensed. “Godsdamnit. Who? How many? Are they armed?”
“It’s just one person, sir,” said Torc. “Olwydd and the others caught her; they said I should come and get you straight away.”
“Right,” said Arenadd. “Let’s go.”
The three of them dashed off, with Torc in the lead. The boy blundered through the undergrowth, making for the little patch of firelight on the other side of the mountain. Night had come, and none of them had a torch, but fortunately the terrain was fairly level here. Still, they had to negotiate a large stretch of damp bracken and soap-bush before the ground cleared.
There Torc broke into a full run, and Arenadd followed close on his heels. He drew level, passed him, and reached the spot before Torc and Cardock, which meant that he was the first to see the scene.
Caedmon, Nolan and Annan were there by the tree, keeping well back and staring at the knot of people standing on the far side of the fire. Dafydd and Garnoc were there, weapons drawn, keeping close to Prydwen and Olwydd, who were holding someone between them. They had twisted the prisoner’s arms behind her back, in the manner of professional guards, and Olwydd was holding his sword to her throat. She stood still, breathing hard, her silver hair hanging over her face.
Arenadd stopped dead.
Garnoc saw him and stepped toward him, bowing low. “My lord,” he said. “We caught her trying to steal food at the edge of camp. She was on her own.” He sounded rather proud of himself.
Arenadd didn’t seem to hear him. He moved closer, his eyes fixed on the woman. She wrenched her arm, hissing and snarling.
Prydwen hit her. “Look up, ye Southern scum,” he snapped. “Show some respect.”
The woman looked up sullenly at Arenadd, and their eyes met.
Arenadd stared at her, as if in a trance. “Skade?”
She stilled. “Arenadd?”
Arenadd waved at them. “Let go of her. Do it!”
They did, and Skade pulled away and walked toward Arenadd. The Northerners tensed, but backed away when Arenadd glared at them, and the two of them met by the fireside.
Arenadd looked her up and down. “Good gods,” he said. “Skade. It really is you. What are you doing here?”
She straightened up. “What do you mean?” she said. “What do you think I am doing here, Arenadd Taranisäii?”
He put his sword back in his belt and folded his arms. “I don’t know, you tell me.”
She hissed at him. “I have been waiting for you, you faithless blackrobe. Where have you been? Where did these men come from?”
“They’re friends of mine,” said Arenadd. He paused. “Skade, what in the gods’ names is going on? Why are you still here? And still—why are you still like that?”
She glanced at the onlookers. “Now is not the time for that. You still have not answered me. Where were you? I was waiting for you for days.”
“Days? What d’you mean, days?”
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that,” Skade snarled. She was speaking Cymrian now, though in a slightly stilted manner. “I put my faith in you, Arenadd. I trusted you to be here. I came out of the cave, thinking you would be there, and you were gone. I waited for days; I nearly starved. You were the only—” She moved closer. “The spirits refused me,” she said, reverting briefly to griffish. “As you can see. I have been condemned to live out the rest of my life in this body. I returned to the living world knowing that you were the only thing I had left. My only link to the new world I must live in. My only comfort. And you were gone.” Her voice rose. “You were gone! You betrayed me. Abandoned me!”
“Abandoned you?” said Arenadd. “I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood the last thing you said to me.” His voice took on a sour tinge. “I don’t know, it’s been a while, but I thought it was something about how our pairing was over and you had no more use for me. That was it, wasn’t it?”
She hesitated. “Words spoken in haste can—I was confused, overexcited. I did not mean to hurt you.”
“Well, that makes everything better, doesn’t it?” Arenadd sneered. “You find me, make use of me, toy with me, and the moment I stop being useful you drop me like a hot coal. Or maybe I should say a hot iron, which is what they jammed into the back of my hand after they caught me and dragged me to Herbstitt.”
Skade backed off a little. “They caught you?”
“Yes. Under this very tree, as it happens. Not that I wouldn’t have left anyway if I’d had the choice.”
“You wanted to come here,” she said. “You believed they could—”
“Well, they didn’t. Understand? They didn’t care. They tortured me and then threw me out, and meanwhile my parents were being sold into slavery. Thanks for the advice, it was a big help. We come all this way, neither of us get what we’re after, I get captured. Wonderful plan. Had you actually thought of another idea in case they didn’t like us? Hmm? Or were you hoping you could get Skandar to carry you somewhere else next?”
“I did not know,” Skade snapped. “And you agreed to it. You did not know what to do any more than I did. If they did not help you, then that is not my fault.”
“All they told me was the exact same thing people used to shout at me in the streets back home. ‘Go back to the North, blackrobe.’ So that’s what I’m going to do, and I’m taking these men with me.”
“And me?” said Skade.
“You?” said Arenadd. “What about you? Go back to Withypool if you want; I don’t care. Go your own way. I don’t want any part of it, understand?”
There was silence. They had been shouting at each other, so loudly that the onlookers had backed away. Others had come to see what was going on, and several dozen pairs of eyes were staring straight at them.
Skade didn’t seem to be aware of them, or of anything except Arenadd. She looked suddenly smaller, and lost. “I thought . . . I did not . . .”
“Did not what?” said Arenadd. His voice and face were full of dislike.