The Riven Wyrde Saga boxed set

by Graham Austin-King

  “Catapults,” called Rhenkin, and a barrage of logs was hurled into the enemy to cover the archers' withdrawal. His plan descended into a bloody brawl as the Bjornmen pushed forward to meet his troops. The narrow streets provided them with no room to manoeuvre and, for the best part of an hour, it was a ugly song of blood and pain, as feet slipped in the mess and swords stabbed down savagely.

  The catapults continued to hurl logs at the Bjornmen and, at Rhenkin’s order, into the flames as well. Within the space of twenty minutes, the fire had turned into an inferno.

  “Larson, it’s time. Sound the withdrawal. We’ve done all we can here. I’ll not waste lives needlessly.”

  The retreat was a hair's breadth from a rout as Rhenkin’s force streamed through the village. Rhenkin ran at the rear with hand-picked men carrying heavy mallets. They slammed the mallets into the pinned beams braced against half-collapsed houses as they ran, the dust from the tumbling buildings eclipsing the cloud of smoke behind them as they fled.

  The dust rose into the skies, mingling with the darker smoke as the village burned. The palisade and barracks, both constructed of wood, were merely more fuel for the fire and the flames soared high into the skies.

  Chapter Eight

  She wasn’t like the others. It had taken a long time for her to notice it but, once she had, she wondered how it could have taken her so long. They came and went, these brief moments of lucidity, but they were increasing. She now noticed the passage of time, the days that passed. None of the others seemed to. They were lost in the same fog that ebbed and flowed in her mind. The fog that seemed to have flooded theirs.

  They rose before the darkness had started to fade, moving by the light of the glowing orbs that hung outside of their huts. It was a pale, watery light, an imitation of moonlight with all the joy and romance sucked from it.

  The women were almost sluggish as they moved

  walking as if still asleep, though none of them ever truly woke from it. They worked to put food together, toasting oatcakes or making porridge by boiling water on the stone plates with strange glowing symbols that each had in their huts.

  There was no fire anywhere. She knew she ought to be more curious about this and the fact she wasn't nagged at her like a stone in her shoe.

  A cry broke her train of thought. The babies were squalling again. It only took one to wake and they were all at it, joining together in a little choir of hunger and need. She rose with the others to fetch them. They’d all want feeding. They were always hungry.

  As she cradled the baby to her breast, his eyes glowed a soft blue in the gloom. She stroked his hair and crooned a tune that seemed to begin at her lips without ever being formed by any thought.

  She was one of the few that weren’t trying to get pregnant. Those that did were soon moved to a different area, away from the pens. She and two others were there simply to help with feeding the babies. No single woman could hope to keep up with their demand for milk. They simply grew too fast.

  There were only women in this pen. The men were kept somewhere else. Their compound consisted of five simple huts arranged in a circle with a well at the centre. These were surrounded by a low wooden fence which marked the boundary. Beyond that was the unknown. The women were not permitted to go further than the fence and she’d never been curious enough to risk taking a look. Her curiosity came and went with the fog in her mind.

  A tear ran down her face as she fed the baby. She always cried and the tears were another odd constant. What was she so sad about? She had no complaints, did she? The other women were in bliss. Bliss. The word tumbled around in her mind. It sounded like something. Reminded her of something.

  The thought fell away as the baby stirred, protesting as her milk gave out. She frowned. This wasn’t right. It was much too soon. He fussed and grumbled, as she turned him and tried the other side, but there was little there either and, before long, he was crying again.

  She was dimly aware of the woman beside her speaking. “Give him to me.”

  The woman reached out her arms and, defeated, she passed the child to over her and fixed her clothing.

  The baby settled down to feed, nursing hungrily. She watched for a moment, the sight stirring odd emotions in her. Envy and fear. She puzzled at the feelings, they were unsettling and she frowned again as she rose to her feet and left.

  None of the others even looked up as she stepped out of the hut into the half-light. The glowing orbs were kept under the edge of the roof, far away from the rays of the sun. Their weak light didn’t extend far into the compound and she moved more from memory than anything else as she made her way to the well.

  Her eyes soon adjusted to the darkness and her movements were mechanical, as she hauled the water up and poured it from the bucket into the jugs sat beside the well.

  Bliss. The word still echoed in her mind. She found herself whispering it.

  “Bliss.” The sound wasn’t quite right. This wasn’t the word she wanted at all. She dropped the empty bucket back down into the water then hoisted it up on the rope again.

  “Liss.” Her blonde hair tossed as she shook her head, rejecting the noise.

  “Riss.” She paused, resting the full bucket on the rim of the well as her lips moved. “Riss… Sriss…”

  “Essriss.” No, not that. “Ylsriss.” As she whispered the word, her eyes grew wide and the lethargy fell from her as she shed it like an old skin. She looked about her and truly saw her surroundings – the huts, the well - for the first time in months. She caught sight of the satyrs, their lantern-light eyes gleaming as they stared through the fence, and then she screamed.

  She was still screaming as the women came out of the huts, carrying the oversized babies with them. Babies that had grown to the size of toddlers in little more than a month. The women looked at her with confusion while the babies turned their heads towards her, their glowing blue eyes filled with a curiosity and an awareness that no baby that age should have, and then she screamed all the harder.

  They came for her soon after that, man-shaped creatures with eyes of flame. They spoke to each other in a language that seemed closer to music than words, their hands reaching for her, grasping her. Ylsriss kicked and flailed in panic, as they held her down and studied her intently. Then a hand was laid on her head and everything was still.

  She was being moved. Though her mind was filled with a fog, Ylsriss could tell that much. They took her to another place, where gentle hands and human voices cared for her. She lay under thick blankets as they spoon-fed her a thin broth, tending to her body while her mind retreated into a corner to curl up around its wounds.

  It was a week before she spoke again. Two before she left the hut and entered a new world. Her mind was still waking, unfolding from the fog of the pens, but a fresh horror was growing within her as memories unfolded. Where was Effan? Where was her baby?

  ***

  Her hands ached. Of all the things that might bother her it was the way her hands cramped as she was scrubbing the clothes in the cold water. The wellpumps might produce hot water but it cooled all too soon.

  Ylsriss knelt on the rough wooden deck and thrust her hands into the water again. She grabbed the clothes and brought them to the scrubbing board. The water was almost cold now. Tepid would have been too generous a description. The sodden cloth slipped under her hand and she scraped her knuckles against the ridged board.

  “Shit!” she swore loudly.

  She brought her hand to her lips and sucked at the soapy knuckle as she hurled the rags down. The water sloshed to one side of the tub, causing it to tip, and the remaining clothes and soapy water spilled out over the deck, pouring over the edge onto the soft forest floor.

  Her cheeks coloured in embarrassment as she felt the others' eyes settle on her, and she rushed along the deck and down the steps to retrieve the clothes. The eyes drifted away as if she wasn’t quite interesting enough to hold their attention. They were passive and docile, and this just served to fuel
her anger.

  Another pair of hands joined her as she squatted in the soft earth and helped her to gather up the clothes. “I know what it’s like,” Joran said, as she looked up at his young face in thanks. “It can be hard to adjust to life here. You will get used to it in time, though. Just give yourself a chance.”

  Ylsriss glared at him, his warm smile a flash of white against a face made dark by the almost endless twilight. “Give up, you mean?” she snapped.

  His smile faded as his expression became sympathetic, but this just stoked the fire inside her. She bit hard on the inside of her lip, tasting blood as she fought to contain more harsh words, and felt the guilt rising within her.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” she muttered.

  “Yes, you did,” Joran disagreed, in a kindly tone. “It’s the truth, after all. But you need to understand that it will get better. You don’t have to live in anger. You can find a joy in serving.”

  She looked at him for a moment, wondering what he might have been like if he’d grown to manhood in her world, without feeling the touch of the fae on his mind.

  A bitter sigh escaped her lips and she looked around the clearing. The huts were rude at best, cobbled together as well as they could be from fallen branches. The fae refused to let them fell trees, only permitting them to use limbs that had fallen in the wind or by some other natural means. They’d provided them with a handful of shaped boards, fashioned with their magic, but the majority of the huts had been made with what the slaves could scavenge.

  She’d been shocked when she first arrived. The slaves were kept in conditions worse than any she’d known. They were treated little better than animals but they seemed to accept it stoically and without complaint.

  She forced herself to smile as she stood by the tub. “You’re right, Joran. I just find it hard sometimes.”

  He reached out hesitantly and squeezed her shoulder with genuine affection. “You need to give yourself time, Ylsriss. It’s only been...what...six months since you came to this camp?”

  She didn’t answer. A group of children ran around the hut, laughing and squealing. She’d expected the pain to fade, although part of her had hoped it wouldn’t, but the sight of them brought the pain of Effan’s theft back to her, as fresh and sharp as she had felt it on the day it happened.

  How long had she been here? Even after all this time, she found it almost impossible to keep track of the days. Six months sounded possible, but it could have been as much as nine or as little as three.

  The sun didn’t rise and fall here like it did in her world. That was the reason they called it the Realm of Twilight. The sun and moon were only in the sky for roughly an hour each day. During the rest of the time, the sky was in a perpetual state of twilight or predawn.

  “I think so,” she shrugged. Thinking of the time that had passed just reminded her of the time she’d lost with Effan. The fae would have taken him to a different camp, apparently. They hadn’t even given her the chance to say goodbye to him. She clenched her teeth and fought back the tears. Emotions like that just got you strange looks here.

  With Joran’s help, she managed to gather up the now filthy clothing and pull the tub back up onto the deck. Ylsriss dumped the clothes out into a pile and turned to take the tub back to the wellpumps. She froze and noticed Joran stiffen too, as a stir passed through the camp. It was not as if any noise had been made, but the atmosphere changed instantly and her eyes were drawn to the far end of the small clearing, to the trail that led into the dense woods.

  A fae stood there, its burning eyes slowly sweeping the camp until they settled on her. With an imperious gesture, he beckoned her closer and she obeyed quickly. Despite her anger, the creatures terrified her. It had not yet been her time to be chosen but she knew the day was coming. It had been coming since her milk ran out. Running would be futile. There was nowhere to run to.

  As she drew closer, she saw two more figures behind him - a large human man and a young woman. The man held the girl by the wrist and it was clear he had been dragging her along for at least part of their journey. She was short, even shorter than Ylsriss herself, and her long dark hair covered much of her face as she stood, defeated, her head bent towards the ground.

  Ylsriss looked questioningly at the fae. It was only when it glowered at her that she remembered herself. “How may I serve you, Blessed One?”

  The glower transformed into a self-satisfied smirk. “You will care for this one. Show her the way of things.” The large man stepped forwards and Ylsriss realised her first impression was wrong. He had ice blue eyes that shone faintly in the twilight. This was no human. He was one of the fae-born.

  She recovered herself quickly and bowed to the fae. “As you wish, Master.”

  He grunted and turned to leave. The fae-born dropped the woman’s wrist and followed. She watched them walk lightly through the forest for a moment before the foliage swallowed them. The woman rubbed her wrist where the fae-born had gripped it. The red finger marks were visible even in the dim light. Ylsriss ducked down slightly to meet her eyes and gently touched her shoulders. “Let’s get you inside, shall we?”

  The woman nodded mutely. Her eyes were like the rest of her. Shocked. Numb.

  Ylsriss took the young woman’s hand, half-expecting her to jerk away or flinch, but she seemed unresponsive. She shared a look with Joran over the top of the girl’s head. His face mirrored her concern as he shrugged and they led the newcomer into the hut that Ylsriss shared with five others.

  The young woman sat on the edge of one of the two bunks that stood against one wall, the extra sleeping pallets tucked underneath. Ylsriss poured water from a wooden bucket into a copper kettle and set it onto the runeplate to boil.

  “There's going to be a lot for you to get used to,” she said, as she traced a fingertip over the first sequence of glyphs to release some of the stored heat.

  She gave the girl what she hoped was a comforting smile and then turned to Joran, who stood watching them from the doorway, nodding to let him know it was okay for him to leave.

  “Why don’t we start with your name? My name is Ylsriss.” The curtain that hung in place of a door fell back as Joran left, leaving them alone.

  “Tia,” the woman breathed, her voice almost inaudible.

  “Tia,” Ylsriss repeated. “ That’s a nice name. Now, how about a cup of tea? It’s not real tea, of course, but it’s as close as we can get.” She waited for the nod and then reached for two of the wooden cups on the small shelf above the window.

  “When were you taken?”she asked, with her back still turned.

  “Three days ago, I think. The sun isn’t right here,” Tia replied, her voice climbing above a whisper.

  “I know. It's something they say you get used to, but I haven’t yet.”

  “How long…?”

  “Have I been here?” Ylsriss finished for her. “I would think about six months in this camp, but it’s hard to say for sure. Where were you from?” she asked, as she spooned out the dried leaves.

  “Tigrit on Bresda. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

  Ylsriss shook her head.

  “It’s a little place on the northern coast. More a fishing wharf with a few huts to keep it company than a village.”

  “I didn’t really see anywhere outside of Hesk until we started making preparations for the war,” Ylsriss shrugged.

  “How were you taken?”the girl asked.

  “I followed my baby. They took him.” Ylsriss said it quickly, hoping it wouldn’t hurt. It didn’t work.

  Tia looked at her in shock. “They took him? What happened to him?”

  “I don’t know. He’s in another camp somewhere. I know he’s being cared for, but that’s all I know.” She cleared her throat. “What happened to you?”

  “They came from the sky,” Tia said. Her eyes were glazed as she remembered.

  Ylsriss blinked at that. Every time she thought there was nothing else she coul
d hear about the fae that could shock her, she heard something new. “From the sky?”

  “On white horses,” Tia said, softly.

  “What happened?” Ylsriss asked, lifting the bubbling kettle from the runeplate and pouring the water into the cups. She deactivated the glyphs quickly. The stored heat was too precious to waste.

  “It was late. Later than I should probably have been out and I knew I would get a tongue-lashing when I got in, but you know how it is when you’re with a boy.” Tia shrugged, her lips curling into a faint smile.

  “I remember,” Ylsriss said, with a wry smile herself.

  “Harn had taken me for a walk along the clifftop and we’d talked until past sundown.”

  Ylsriss chuckled at the blush spreading on Tia’s pale cheeks. “You did more than just talking too, judging by that face.”

  The colour faded quickly as Tia continued. “It started like a sound of thunder in the distance. We both looked around because it was a clear night. Then there were pipes and horses, and something was laughing. They tore down out of the sky on white horses, the moonlight shining on their hair. Their eyes…” She glanced up at Ylsriss, her face telling the story of her fear as she relived it.

  “We ran. In my life, I don't think I’ve ever run so hard or so fast. We ran until my breath burned in my throat, but they were just toying with us, charging in from the sky and then veering off. Harn tripped and then grabbed a branch to use as a club but then they took him. There was so much blood, Ylsriss, and it was so fast. One moment he was telling me to get behind him and the next he was on the ground.”

  Ylsriss realised she was still holding both cups and handed one to Tia, who took it slowly, her mind somewhere else as she continued to speak.

  “They took his head. One of them actually took his head and held it high, like it was some kind of trophy, and they all laughed. Even the goat-men laughed. What kind of monsters are they, that they could do something like that?”