The Riven Wyrde Saga boxed set

by Graham Austin-King

  “The cathedral! Is she mad?” Ylsriss gasped.

  “She’s convinced there’s something strange going on and that the answers are inside. Apparently, her brother Khiv vanished from the orphanage without a word to anyone.”

  Ylsriss fixed him with a look. “Kids do things like that, Gavin. He probably just left.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe he did. She was going to go in anyway. I didn’t go for Khiv, I went for her.”

  “And so you just went along with this?” She didn't shout. She didn't have to. Her eyes spoke more loudly than her voice.

  “I didn't have much of a choice, Ylsriss.” He glanced at her once and then avoided her eyes. “I was the oldest of all of us in that place. They all looked to me...” He trailed off.

  “I'm not seeing what that has to do with helping Tessa or doing something crazy like this.”

  “Don't you see? I left them. I couldn't stand it and so I left. I’m responsible for anything that happens in there. If I'd stayed, I might have been able to do something.”

  “You think you're responsible for whatever happened to Khiv?” Her voice was incredulous and he looked up at her sharply. “Gavin, life doesn't work like that,” she continued, in a softer tone. “You're not responsible for people forever. Life is too short and too hard for that.”

  “Maybe, but he's still gone and I felt I owed her my help, at least.”

  “So what happened?”

  “The priests.” He paused, looking almost embarrassed for a moment. “The priests are doing something with those children, with the youngest ones.”

  “That's disgusting!” Ylsriss snapped, her eyes flashing.

  “What? No, not that!” he said, revulsion clear on his face. “No, they were taking two of them into the park.”

  “What's wrong with that?” she asked.

  “I need a drink,” he muttered, placing one hand on the tabletop and pushing himself to his feet.

  “There's some fresh water in the kettle,” she said, nodding towards the stove.

  “That's not what I meant.” Gavin laughed.

  “Oh. Well, there's some ale in the pantry, over in the corner there.” She watched as he rummaged about and waved a cup at her, replacing it as she shook her head.

  He poured himself a drink. “They were taking them to the park at third bell past midnight, Ylsriss. One of them was still a babe in swaddling.” He nodded at her confused expression. “It's not just that. We heard them talking in the orphanage. They were acting on orders from someone high up in the church.”

  “What did they do with them?”

  “This is where it gets weird. I don't know how much to tell you. You'll think I’ve gone mad.” He cleared his throat and then drank deeply, looking past her and at the window as he spoke. “We followed them into the park. It was misty enough for us to move quickly and not worry about them hearing us. They were taking the children to the kissing stones, you know the ones?” He waited for her nod and plunged on. “There were two more priests waiting for them there. At least, they looked like priests to start with. As soon as the ones we'd followed handed the children over and left, they changed.”

  “What do you mean, they changed?”

  “I don't know how to describe it. One minute they were just normal priests and then, the next, one of them was something different. Almost like the priest was just a mask he'd been wearing that he'd dropped. The other one, well, he seemed to walk through the stones. A bit like he was moving through a doorway. He was holding both the children and...Ylsriss, he...well, he just vanished.”

  “Did you hit your head, Gavin?”

  “I know what it sounds like, Ylsriss, but I swear that's what happened. Tessa shot at one of them with a hand-bow and then it was on us. You've never seen anything move the way it did, Ylsriss. Even fighting both of us at once, it was like it was toying with us. It cut her so easily, like it wasn't even trying.” He looked down and rubbed his eyes with his blanket, his breath shuddering into him.

  Ylsriss looked on, her hard eyes softening as Gavin lowered his voice in confession.

  “She made me leave her there.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “She knew she was already dead. The blood was pouring from her leg. I should have stayed and helped or something, but I didn't, I just ran. I didn't even look back.”

  Ylsriss stood carefully. “Let me get this little beast into bed and I'll be back.” She paused at the doorway, looking back over her shoulder at the drink in his hand. “Get me one of those while I'm gone. I’ve a feeing I'm going to need it.”

  The journey up the stairs was a slow and cautious one, practice allowing her to avoid those steps that creaked. He was a good baby, but he was a light sleeper and she'd soon learned to avoid making noises when trying to get him down.

  She placed him in the cradle and pulled the light woolen blanket over him. The sun had almost set, just a sliver remaining above the silvery horizon as it sank into the sea. The faint glitter of stars was just visible as they peered through the veil of the wisps of cloud. Ylsriss moved to the window and stared out across the city towards the harbour. She glanced at the baby for a moment, her thoughts far across the ocean.

  Faint sounds from the kitchen brought her back to herself and she turned to the doorway. She didn't look at the rooftop opposite Rhaven's house. It would have taken sharp eyes indeed to have picked out the figure crouched beside the chimney. As the last light of the sun faded, the green-tinged mist rising from the creature's shoulders was just visible below its burning amber eyes. Eyes that had watched so intently as she laid the baby down.

  He'd suffered by coming here so early. The hated sun was leaching the Lady's gift from him as he crouched in shadows too small to take all of his form. He had risked much by allowing the manling to escape the night before. The time was not yet right for their actions to be known. His hands burned in remembered pain as he thought back to the night before, when cold iron on the window's frame had thrown him away from it and into the light of the rising sun. These people were so unpredictable as to when and where they used the hated metal now. Things were so different from the times he remembered.

  The sun finally sank below the horizon and he stood, eyes eager, then leapt across to the sloped roof. He braced his knees, ready for the impact, and wrenched the window open. Blue fire flared as he pressed his hands tightly against the protruding heads of the iron nails and, with a gasp, he ripped the entire frame away, hurling the hateful thing behind him to crash into the street.

  ***

  Gavin waved a cup of ale at Ylsriss as she came back into the kitchen. The colour was coming back into his cheeks, despite his injuries. The sleep had clearly done him good.

  “Here, take these,” she said, handing him a pile of clothes. “They're Rhaven's and are probably too big for you, but you can't just wear that blanket all day.”

  “Listen, Ylsriss, I need to tell you this. I need to get it out and I'm scared you won't believe me, but just let me get through it, alright?” He blurted the words out as if scared they would refuse to pass his lips if he spoke more slowly.

  “Get dressed first. I have a feeling I won't want to be interrupted.”

  He nodded as he slipped out with the clothes and she sipped at the dark ale while she waited.

  “Okay, just let me tell you,” he said, as he came back in. “That thing that we fought. It wasn't human. I ran from that park like a frightened child. I wasn't even paying attention to where I was going. That's how I ended up in the Barrowways, getting beaten to a pulp.” He shook his head to stop her as she drew a breath and then he plunged on. “They would probably have killed me. I managed to take two or three of them down, but they had me on the ground in the end. If that thing hadn't waded in and attacked, I'd still be in that alley. It must have been following me, watching.”

  She cut him off as her face paled. “So how do you know it didn't - ” She never finished the sentence and they both whipped their heads around at the crash from outs
ide.

  Ylsriss rushed to the door, ignoring Gavin as he cried out for her to wait. She slid open the peep, a wooden slat in the door behind a metal grate in the front. The yard was still visible in the twilight but there was no movement. The door fought with her as she struggled with the catches and locks, but eventually it opened smoothly. Night air reached in, caressing her as she peered out. Gavin pushed past her, bending down to study something on the ground. He crouched and lifted a piece of the mangled window frame, looking at her with confusion. A faint cry from above caused him to lift his head and Ylsriss screamed as a creature leapt from the roof, clear across the corner of the yard, to the building opposite. Her baby was clearly visible, wrapped tightly in the blanket in one of its arms, and a piece of the cloth fluttered down to them. The creature looked back at them, its burning amber eyes filled with contempt, and then it was gone.

  She didn't pause but ran for the gate, tearing after the distant figure with a speed born of terror. Her son, it had stolen her son. The thought was almost too terrible to hold in her head, and she felt herself drifting into blind panic as she ran through the streets. One turn and then another led her to a square and she faltered, then stopped. There was no sign of the creature, no hint of which way it had gone. Tears flowed almost instantly and she bit her lip in grief and anger. She hadn't cried like this in almost fifteen years. Not since she'd fled her father. They came fast, hot and burning, filling her eyes as her cries tore from her throat.

  She felt arms around her, lifting her from the ground that she hadn't even been aware she'd fallen to. “Effan,” she whispered through her tears. “I name you Effan.”

  “Ylsriss!” Gavin shook her again. “Be smart. We don't need to follow it. We know it's going to the park.” He grabbed her hand and lurched towards the southern end of the square, limping horribly but somehow still managing to pull her along.

  The cold stones of the city cut into her bare feet. It had been years since Ylsriss had been forced to run the streets unshod, but she ignored the pain as best she could. Before long, the rough cobbles and sharp-cornered flagstones gave way to grass, wet from the evening’s rains. She pulled ahead of Gavin, shaking her hand free of his grasp and ran, hearing nothing beyond her own frantic heartbeat as he fell behind.

  The kissing stones emerged out of the growing murk and she could just make out the figure again. It pressed a hand to one of the supporting stones and looked upwards at the sky as if it was waiting. She threw herself at him, a whirling mass of fists and fingers curled into claws. “My baby!” she screamed, as she attacked. “Give me my baby, you bastard!”

  The creature staggered back, seemingly shocked at the onslaught. Then, between one blow and the next, it reached out, casually grasped her by the throat and lifted her forwards. She choked and gagged against the pressure on her neck. The creature calmly looked her up and down with its strange burning eyes, seemingly unaware of the wailing from Effan, who lay in the crook of its other arm. The clouds parted, bathing them both in the pale glow of the newly risen moon, and the creature smiled in satisfaction as it raised its face to the light, ignoring her as she struggled in its fist.

  “You too will serve then,” it said softly to her, the words clear despite the odd accent.

  Ylsriss had time to hear Gavin scream her name as he staggered into view, and then the creature stepped towards the stones. She felt the rough texture, as if the stone itself was passing through her very flesh and bones, and then a blast of the most bitter cold before she passed into the darkness.

  Chapter Four

  Klöss leaned back against the heavy beams of the thick wooden gates and watched the mud spatter from under the boots of his men as they trudged through the gates. Others were still making their way along the winding path which led through the rows of trenches and sharpened stakes. He didn't see the men. He saw the gaps. There were far too many of them for him to have known all of their names, but he recognised several faces and, more importantly, the empty spaces next to them where a friend had once walked.

  The air was too still. The men were quiet, but it was more than that. It ought to be full of Verig's curses and insults, as he urged the men onwards. Klöss caught sight of Tristan moving with the men. He met the big man's eyes for a moment but his gaze slipped away, as if failing to find purchase, and continued skimming over the returning force.

  A splash in the mud behind him announced the man before he spoke. “Shipmaster?” he called, respectfully.

  “Yes?” Klöss turned to face the man - although he was little more than a boy, really. “Seamaster Frostbeard asks you attend him as soon as your men are settled.”

  Klöss grunted and gave the young man a knowing look. “That's not what he really said, is it?”

  “No.” The boy looked down at his muddy boots as his face reddened.

  Klöss laughed, a rough coarse sound. “It's okay, lad. I can imagine what he said.” He patted the boy's shoulder. “Where can I find him?”

  “In his office. In the keep.” He nodded towards the distant structure.

  Klöss sought out Tristan in the throng again. He caught the man's eye, jabbed his thumb at his chest and then pointed into the settlement. Tristan nodded in response and turned to the men nearest him, calling out instructions.

  Klöss followed the boy through the streets. The tall stone wall surrounding the fledgling city cast a deep shadow over the buildings in the early afternoon. With the exception of the wall, however, there was little stone to be seen. The buildings were mostly wooden and had a temporary feel to them, something he'd grown accustomed to when living in the camps while the fleet was being built.

  The keep was the only large stone building in Rimeheld. Construction had started as soon as the walls were complete and the simple wooden building that had originally stood there had long since been replaced.

  The primary focus had been on immediate defence, so the construction of the walls and ditches had been more important than the building of homes and other buildings. He nodded at the men standing guard outside the large double doors and made his way inside.

  Frostbeard's study was in a small corner of the top floor and, as he approached the sturdy wooden door, he was reminded of another door, another study. His life had changed immeasurably since that day, yet here he was, fighting down a sense of dread again as he forced himself to knock.

  The study was utilitarian and spartan. A simple desk groaned under the weight of various papers, and charts and maps covered the walls. Aiden looked up as Klöss entered, his face breaking into a sympathetic smile, and he motioned wordlessly to one of the chairs that faced him across the desk.

  “Even if I hadn't seen how few men you have brought back, your face would have told me,” he said softly. “What happened? The village wasn't that well defended.”

  “No, it wasn't,” Klöss replied. “The village was taken easily. We were attacked later that night.”

  “A night attack?” Aiden wondered. “Still, even then you shouldn't have lost that many.”

  “They had some manner of beast with them. Tore through us like reavers in still seas. They caught us midway through the second watch. Our sentries gave no warning and they were in amongst us by the time the cry went up.”

  The old man narrowed his eyes. “What aren't you telling me?”

  “We lost Verig.”

  “Men die,” Frostbeard muttered, but his gaze fell to the desk and Klöss noticed his shoulders drop slightly. He knew it was all the response the man would show.

  “We never expected anything like this kind of force,” Klöss said. “The village had nothing like it. It was some form of elite unit.”

  “So why not use them to help defend the village?” Aiden looked up from the desk.

  “Perhaps they didn't arrive in time? There could be any number of reasons. The point is we didn't expect these lands to have anything like these troops. This changes a few things, you realise?”

  Aiden stood, scraping the chair back w
ith his legs, and walked to one of the maps on the wall. “Not necessarily. I didn't ever plan on conquering these people. From day one, the plan was always just to drive them from their lands, to push them back.” He examined the map as Klöss looked curiously over his shoulder. The map had grown in detail since the last time he had seen it, the Islander settlements now clearly marked on it along with what was known about the enemy villages. He caught himself. When had he stopped thinking of these people as soft farmer folk and begun to think of them as the enemy?

  “Here.” Frostbeard tapped the map with one thick finger. “They have a sizeable force here. According to our scouts, they’ve pulled most of their forces back to this point. If we strike them hard and fast, we can neutralise them and take this whole area.”

  “I thought the idea was to force them back and then hold, not to take more?” Klöss said in a low voice.

  “Like you said, the situation has changed. We need to send a message. If we're lucky, we'll be able to eliminate those elite troops. Let's see how well they do when we're not caught with our britches down.” Frostbeard turned away from the map. “Speak to the scouting parties and get a better idea of the area. I want to hear your plans in two days, before the sealord arrives.”

  “The sealord? He's coming here?”

  “He wants a clearer picture than he's getting from our reports. This expedition puts his neck on the line too, you know?”

  “I would have thought with the thane's backing...” Klöss trailed off.

  “Don't be a fool, lad. The thane is out for what he can get. The council was shocked, certainly, but they won't let their power go so easily. There are those in the keepers and the merchants who are just waiting for this to fail.” He moved back to the desk and sank into the chair with a sigh. “Go on now, Klöss, I've some thinking to do about how to replace Verig.”

  Klöss noted the tight lips and clenched hands, signs of the pain that Frostbeard was working so hard to conceal, and left without a word. He made his way through the busy streets to the high stone wall overlooking the harbour and climbed the rough wooden steps to the walkway. Like so much else, the stairs would be replaced with stone in time.