The Riven Wyrde Saga boxed set

by Graham Austin-King

  “So we’re back to square one then, Rhenkin.” She picked up a letter opener and tapped it absently on the leather writing set on top of the desk. “The Bjornmen outnumber us and we still know next to nothing about these fae creatures.”

  “Not entirely, your grace,” Obair said smoothly, before Rhenkin could speak. “There have been some developments with Devin here which were entirely unexpected.”

  “Oh?” She raised an eyebrow at him as she continued toying with the knife.

  “It’s a bit complicated, but Devin appears to have some talent that requires investigating.”

  “Don’t spoon-feed me, Obair.” She smiled sweetly. “I’m a big girl. I can take it all in one go.”

  Devin’s mind wandered, as Obair explained about the Wyrde and the role he had played in maintaining it. It was amazing how quickly the fantastical could become mundane, how fast the dead could be forgotten. His head still throbbed. The pain had become a dull ache that he had almost learned to ignore. It made a counterpoint to the welter of emotions he felt about Hannah and Khorin.

  With a guilty start, he realised that he’d not even thought about Kainen, Erinn and their families, or any his other friends in the village. He’d wrapped himself in a blanket of hurt and misery, and was shocked he hadn't been able to see through it.

  “And you believe there might still be information there that we can use?” The duchess’s voice cut through his thoughts and he jerked his eyes back to her.

  “There may be nothing, your grace,” Obair shrugged. “My hope is that either she, or her student, still lives and can help with this. The fact that Devin can feel the moon through the Wyrde is something that I cannot ignore.”

  “And you, boy?” She turned her attention to him. “How do you feel about this? After all you’ve been through, are you willing to leave your mother and go in search of something which might not even exist?”

  “She’s not my mother.” The words left his lips before he'd really thought about them. “Hannah has been a mother to me for longer than I can really remember, but she’s not my real mother. The fae took my mother from me. My mind has been broken and twisted for so long that I’d almost forgotten it all. Now they’ve killed Khorin, the only father I’ve ever had, and broken Hannah so her mind is as shattered as my own was. If I can find a way to hurt them, I will.”

  She looked at him with sympathy but, rather than comfort him, her pity just fuelled his anger. He felt it rising in him and the look he returned pushed at the outer edges of politeness and bordered on belligerent. She raised an eyebrow at his expression before turning to address Obair.

  “When do you leave?”

  “As soon as possible really, your grace.” He glanced at Rhenkin. “I don’t suppose we would be able to impose upon you for some supplies?”

  “You may have whatever you need,” Selena said, before Rhenkin could open his mouth. “Rhenkin, I will be travelling to Celstwin with Hanris to try to talk some sense into King Pieter. I want you to gather our forces and engage the Bjornmen. Bleed them slowly.” She ignored his intake of breath and carried on before he could speak. “I know we can’t match their numbers and I don’t expect you to hold lands. Fall back as they advance but, Major, I expect you to make them pay in blood for every mile they take.” Her voice was calm but her eyes were savage.

  “As you wish, your grace.” Rhenkin rose and stood to attention.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ylsriss sipped the water from the skin and grimaced at the leathery taste. A bird, startled by something in the trees, burst from its cover and crashed up through the leaves into the purple twilight sky. She froze, the waterskin still pressed to her lips, as her eyes searched the bushes and leaves around her.

  The woods had grown still and it was only as the quiet noises of the birds returned that she felt herself relax. Joran hissed out a sigh of relief behind her and she turned to see him lowering the bow. She hadn’t even heard him move to retrieve it from the packs.

  “Do you still think we should be resting during the daylight hour?” she asked, for what she knew must be the hundredth time.

  “It’s the only time we can be certain of being safe, Ylsriss. You know that.” He stepped closer and held her gently by the shoulders. “Look at me. I mean, really look. You look as bad as I must do. We can’t sleep properly at night, not when we have to take turns on watch and we jump at every sound.”

  “But we could be so much further away…” She trailed off. They’d already been over this. There was little point in listing the pros and cons of the rest stops again.

  She could tell he knew what she was thinking, as he hunkered down beside the remains of the runeplate to make sure the glyphs were covered. The sun was already shining through the trees, although it had yet to crest them.

  “They’re fading,” he said.

  “It will last a bit longer. I’m surprised it's lasted this long, really.” Ylsriss shrugged. “When it’s gone, it’s gone. We can make a fire easily enough.”

  Joran lowered himself to the earth with a groan. “Lords of Blood, Sea and Sky, I’m tired.”

  Ylsriss dug through the pack to find their few remaining oatcakes. “We’re going to have to stop and hunt something soon, Joran. We’re running out of food.”

  “I know,” he sighed. “I don’t want to stop here, though. It just doesn’t feel safe yet.”

  She nodded, though he wasn’t looking. It didn’t feel safe yet. That much was as true for her as it was for him. They’d seen no sign of pursuit or any sign of a threat but the menace hung in the air. It had done for days, but it was nothing she could put her finger on. It felt similar to the sensation of being watched, but not quite the same.

  “I’ve lost track of the days again,” she said softly, as she handed an oatcake over.

  “It’s been three weeks now, by my reckoning.”

  “Another week then?”

  “Hmm?”

  “If we go another week, then we ought to be safe, don’t you think?”

  He paused, the oatcake held to his lips. “I suppose so. If they haven’t caught us by then, they either can’t find us or they don’t care.”

  She swallowed down the last of the cake, forcing it down though she didn’t really want it. She knew she would need the strength it gave her. It was odd sleeping in the sunlight. There was so little of it in this strange land that it felt wrong to waste it. The pack was lumpy under her head as she lay back. No matter how much she shifted it, it didn’t seem to make a difference.

  Glancing across at Joran, she saw his eyes were closed, and his chest was rising and falling rhythmically. The man was already asleep. Ylsriss muttered choice words under her breath and shifted again in an attempt to get comfortable.

  It didn’t take long for her to give up. Patience had never been something she could lay claim to having. Climbing to her feet, she headed to the edge of the small clearing. As an afterthought, she went back and picked up the waterskin. Maybe she could find a stream or something.

  She kept a careful note of where the clearing lay but, other than that, she wandered without any real purpose. The sun shone onto the trees, making the leaves radiant with bright reds and golds. Here and there, the silvery bark of a tree gleamed in the golden light.

  The distant sound of water drew her around the side of the hill and she caught her first clear view in days, as the ground dropped steeply away in front of her. The canopy burned in the sunlight, the red and orange leaves forming a blanket of flames. A flash pulled at her from the corner of her eye but when she turned to look in that direction it was gone. She stared, eyes scanning the distant trees, but it did not come again.

  The stream was clear and the water icy. She knelt awkwardly at the edge, as she held the skin under the surface and tried to fill it. The water was cold enough to burn her and her hand swiftly went numb in the flow. It was probably the only cold thing she’d come across since she had passed into the Realm of Twilight.

  Her eyes
caught the flash again as she stood and this time they locked onto it. The distant images blurred and shifted before slowly forming a clear picture. It was a small section of wall. The yellow stones were stained with moss and half-covered in vines, but it was a wall nonetheless. She had no idea what had been flashing, but she was so shocked by the sight of the structure that she didn’t care. The waterskin banged against her side, the water within it sloshing about, as she jogged back to the clearing and shook Joran roughly awake.

  He jumped as he came to and his eyes were filled with panic as he stared up at her. She immediately felt guilty and hushed him with one finger, shaking her head and smiling gently. “No, it’s not that. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Why did you…what’s going on then?” he asked, through sleep-fuddled lips.

  “I found water...” she began.

  “That’s great, but did you need to wake me to tell me?”

  “Shut up for a minute.” She laughed. “I found water and, as I was filling the skin, I saw buildings.”

  “What do you mean, buildings?”

  “You know...four walls... roofs?” She didn’t bother to temper the sarcasm.

  “Funny,” he said, in a flat voice.

  “Alright. I'm not sure it was buildings, actually. It was just a wall,” she admitted.

  “But we have to be at least a hundred miles from Tir Rhu’thin,” he protested.

  “Exactly!” Her excitement was contagious and his smile grew to match her own. Abruptly, however, her expression was one of panic. “Do you think it could be more fae?”

  “I don’t think so.” Joran frowned. “They always made it clear that Tir Rhu’thin was their home. If they had other cities or towns, wouldn't they have mentioned them?”

  “Who knows?” Ylsriss shrugged again. “I think it’s worth taking a look though. We might find something we can use or, at the very least, some shelter.”

  “How far away would you say it was?”

  “I don’t know, really. It’s hard to judge. Maybe two days?”

  “Show me.” He clambered to his feet, and gathered up his pack and bow while she retrieved the chunk of runeplate, splashing water over the glyphs to make sure the dirt was stuck fast before she shoved it into her pack.

  “What about resting?” she asked.

  “This is more important. I just have a feeling about it.” He looked away, embarrassed.

  “I know what you mean. I thought I was just being silly but…” She spread her hands helplessly.

  They paused as they reached the stream and she pointed out the distant wall. He looked at it for a second, then strode through the icy water without so much as a flinch. Ylsriss shook her head and headed further downstream, where a fallen log had formed a natural bridge. Men were idiots. She'd always had to nag Klöss to bathe, but show him something that promised adventure and he’d wade through the surf without batting an eyelid. It seemed Joran was cut from the same cloth.

  The wall vanished from view as they travelled, obscured by the trees. Joran increased his pace and she found herself struggling to keep up.

  “Damn it, Joran,” she yelled, in frustration. “It’s not going to vanish on us. Slow down! Either that or take this damned skin, so I can walk properly.”

  He looked back at her and she fought down the wave of guilt as she saw his crestfallen expression. He was like an overgrown child in so many ways, but she hadn’t the time to coddle him.

  “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. Just take the skin. The strap is too long for me, anyway. I’ll take your pack until we’ve used some of the water up.”

  The twilight was darkening by the time they stopped for the night and she lay in the dim light thinking about the distant wall. Joran’s deep, steady breaths were the soft accompaniment to her imagination’s travels as she wondered about the wall and what it might enclose. In her time in the world of the fae - at least, once she’d broken free of the Touch - she’d only ever heard any mention of Tir Rhu’thin. Now that she thought about it though, it did sound odd. An entire world with only one city? She gave a mental shrug. It was no wonder she’d accepted it; this was how the Touch worked. It was as if part of your mind went to sleep. Things like this just didn’t seem important, even when they should have been screaming out at you.

  She shook her head in the half-light. How could they have been so stupid, so befuddled, that they didn't question it? She felt a moment’s fear at the prospect of another city of fae, but it was soon overridden by her desire to know the truth. If the wall surrounded a city of fae, surely they would have been discovered and captured by now?

  Joran murmured and she glanced at him, jealous of his ability to sleep. She examined his features in the gloom. He looked like a grown man or very close to it. In many ways, he acted like one, and in some ways he seemed even older, but there were other parts of his personality that marked him as little more than a child. His ability to sleep whenever he needed was something that any oarsman from the Barren Isles would have envied. For him, though, it was just natural. She also knew that, at some level, he still thought of the fae as benevolent. Despite what he said, it hadn't yet occurred to him that they were in any real danger.

  ***

  He knelt and examined the tracks; just a scuffed patch of moss and a broken twig, things most others would have missed. He was patient for his kind, but then he was far older than most of the Revel. More importantly, he didn’t fear the leaching rays of the sun as they did.

  The leaves on the twig were just starting to wilt. It hadn’t been broken for long. The damage could have been done by any number of creatures, but the scuff in the moss was a clear sign. Humans really were the clumsiest of creatures.

  He rose from his crouched position and looked about for Sabeth. The fae’reeth was almost unique amongst her kind, more focused than many of the tiny creatures were capable of being. He caught sight of her purple form as the setting sun reflected off her wings and waved her over.

  “This way.” He pointed. “They are little more than a sunrise ahead of us.”

  “They are an interesting quarry.” Her eyes gleamed as she stared off in the direction of the trail. “Do you imagine any of your brethren still continue the hunt?”

  “I doubt it.” Thantos glanced back in the direction of Tir Rhu’thin. “Most are too careful hoarding the Lady’s gift.” His lip curled as he spoke, the derision thick on his black tongue.

  “I confess, my brother, that I will never understand this obsession with the Lady.”

  Thantos permitted a rare smile to twist his lips. “Your kind rarely does, Sabeth.”

  She shrugged, the movement causing her to bob in the air as it interfered with the motion of her wings. “How far do we travel to then, Thantos? You realise we are close to the boundary? Aelthen will be incensed, should we be discovered.”

  The old satyr tugged at his beard. The dark wiry hair was shot through with silver streaks. “We will go on. We can turn back easily enough if need be, but I’ll not let the quarry escape when we’re this close.”

  “You’re as bad as those on the chase,” Sabeth chided.

  “As are you, dear sister,” Thantos replied, with a dry chuckle. He waved a gnarled hand forward, inviting her to lead the way, and ran behind as the purple creature no larger than his hand flew through the trees.

  He ran lightly, a gait that was little more than a trot but which allowed him to scan the ground ahead of him as they travelled. Sabeth would be looking for trail signs anyway, but only a fool left a task totally to the fae’reeth. More than any of the fae, they were a fickle people.

  The sun dropped below the trees as they travelled and he felt their pace quicken in response as the drain of the sun fell away. It was subtle, but he’d been running in the daylight long enough to appreciate it. His chest felt lighter, his body relaxed as he ran and every muscle was that little bit more responsive. He might mock the others for their reliance upon it, but he would never argue the Lady�
�s Gift wasn't potent. The difference lay in appreciating the benefits of the Lady's Gift and reliance upon the Grace it imparted.

  Sabeth flared her wings and spun in place ahead of him, pointing into the bushes to his left. Her warning came a fraction of a second before his own ears caught the rustle and his nose was filled with the feline scent of the cat. He threw himself to the side and ripped his curved knives free of their sheaths as the beast crashed into the earth where he’d just stood.

  He rolled and came smoothly to his feet with his knives extended before him. The shade-cat was young and inexperienced, he could tell. It hadn’t long been free of its tree by the looks of things. He tried a feint to see what it would do and was surprised as it backed away, giving itself space to react, rather than falling for the motion.

  The pounce was a thing of beauty. Its powerful muscles rippled as it launched itself into the air and flew at him. The thick trail of darkness extended out behind the cat and into the trees, a testament to its youth and lack of control.

  Thantos rolled to the side again, lashing out with his knives and cutting deeply into the cat’s side. It let loose a yowl of pain and landed awkwardly, the trail of mist pouring in and encompassing it. The satyr could see two green eyes glowing malevolently amidst the darkness.

  He didn’t pause. Waiting would just give the beast enough time to heal itself. He threw himself at the cat, his knives moving in a blur before him, as he slashed and thrust deep. A flash of purple heralded Sabeth’s entry into the fight as she plunged into the mist.

  The mist faded almost at once as the cat twisted and recoiled from the tiny cuts Sabeth’s knife inflicted. It lashed out at the flitting fae’reeth with its black claws, but it might as well have been trying to catch the wind.

  As Thantos shifted back a step and waited for an opening, the creature soon became covered in a web of tiny slashes that oozed blood. The wounds that the fae’reeth inflicted with their blades were seldom designed to be immediately fatal. Instead, they preferred to drain their victims slowly, as a source of amusement for the swarm.