Lucien

by James Moloney

  He was right, yet the longer I peered out through the bars, the more the frantic activity around the Great Hall looked like an army getting ready for battle. My stomach tightened.

  ‘I don’t like this, Tamlyn,’ I said.

  His wordless sigh of response showed he shared my suspicions. We both knew of one force that might prompt such preparations, but neither of us cared to speak Coyle’s name out loud.

  ‘Silvermay!’ called a voice softly from outside the cell.

  I looked down, but the walls were thick and the bars set into the stone in a way that blocked my view. I knew the voice, though.

  ‘Geran! I can’t see you.’

  ‘It’s better that you don’t. We don’t want people to guess I’m talking to you.’

  I understood then, and pictured how she must have wandered about the square unnoticed, until she halted beneath the window of our cell. To anyone watching, she was simply resting with her back against the wall. As long as no one was close enough to hear her, or to see her lips move, there would be no suspicion.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I whispered, once Tamlyn had backed me away from the window so the light no longer caught my face. ‘Why are there so many people in the square?’

  ‘Word came at dawn this morning,’ she replied. ‘Ships have been sighted off our south-east shore. Dozens of them. We’re afraid it’s a fleet of invaders. The Circle of Elders has ordered a march southward in case there’s a war to fight.’

  ‘Have the ships put ashore?’ asked Tamlyn.

  ‘No news of that yet, but no one sails such a distance just to admire the coastline.’

  ‘Are you sure they’re from the south-east?’ I asked.

  Geran surely knew why I was asking. Athlane lay to the south-east.

  ‘Nothing is known for certain,’ she said, ‘but rumour around the city says it’s the Wyrdborn, come in great numbers.’

  ‘Are you joining the ranks of fighters?’ Tamlyn asked.

  ‘I would if my father would let me. Perhaps then I could earn back his trust. But no, I must wait in the rear to tend the wounded. I have to go. You’re safe for now. Father and the rest of the Circle are too worried about these invaders to decide your fate.’

  Geran pushed off the wall and walked deeper into the crowd in the square. I could see her now, her shoulders slumped in dejection. She did not turn to look at me.

  Tamlyn lowered me to the straw once more. ‘What are you thinking, Silvermay? Do you see the same pictures in your head that I see?’

  I nodded, feeling ill. All I could see behind my eyes were the worst of the mosaics in Nan Tocha: bodies broken and bleeding; the innocent, starved and weeping.

  ‘You don’t think those pictures were of the Felan, do you?’ I asked. ‘I always thought they showed the commonfolk in Athlane. It’s unbearable, Tamlyn. These people came here to escape that prophecy.’

  ‘Something about this doesn’t make sense,’ Tamlyn murmured, his hand rubbing the stubble on his chin. ‘Why would the Wyrdborn be coming to invade Erebis Felan like a regular army? Each Wyrdborn cares only for himself. Even two Wyrdborn cannot fight side by side for long before they turn on each other. That has always been their great weakness. If not for this flaw in their nature, they would dominate every kingdom on earth. Thank the gods they have never found a way to overcome that flaw, or the misery in those mosaics would have come to pass long ago.’

  ‘Maybe this time they will fight together,’ I said. ‘But why would they come here? Why so many of them and why now? Erebis Felan is not a rich land. It has no gold or precious stones; its fields don’t yield any more than ours at home do.’

  Tamlyn had no answer, and Ryall had gone off into a corner with his own thoughts. Not that it mattered because I’d already guessed what the Wyrdborn had come for. In that moment, the frustration of where we were became too much.

  ‘We have to get out of this room!’ I shouted, banging my hand against the wall.

  Our gaoler appeared once more at dusk. While she filled the water flask that would be left with us through the night, Tamlyn said, ‘You should let us fight these invaders. If it is the Wyrdborn, they are our enemy as much as the Felan’s.’

  ‘You’ve been listening at the window, have you? Well, even if I trusted you, I don’t have the authority to release you, and the Elders who do have all gone south to command the fighting.’

  ‘Delgar, too?’ I asked.

  ‘All of them,’ she repeated.

  ‘It’s serious, then. Every Felan with magic in his hands has gone to defend your land.’

  ‘All except me and the grandmothers left to watch the children.’

  That explained why the square had been deserted since mid-afternoon, except for the occasional cry of a child and the shuffling footsteps of old women.

  As the day finally died, Tamlyn, Ryall and I sat huddled in a circle.

  ‘My father will be on one of those ships,’ said Tamlyn. ‘And my brother, too.’

  ‘Coyle will be furious and more determined than ever to get Lucien back,’ I said, and shuddered at the feel of that name on my lips.

  ‘I still don’t believe this can be an army of Wyrdborn,’ said Tamlyn, ‘not like the Felan army that is marching to face them. The Felan will work together, but not Coyle and Hallig and the rest.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ said Ryall. ‘Maybe they’re sharing the ships, but each is still separate and wanting Lucien for himself. They’re not an invading force at all. They want only Lucien, and will kill one another to get him, as quickly as they’ll kill the Felan.’

  ‘That’s just it, Ryall,’ I said, on the verge of tears. ‘Each Wyrdborn will fight only for himself, but their magic is far stronger than the Felan’s. We have to stop the massacre before it begins.’

  ‘From our prison cell?’ said Tamlyn. ‘We can’t do anything while we languish here.’

  Those were the last words I remember before sleep suddenly claimed me. Little wonder that my dreams were marred by screaming and the clash of bloodied swords. And then the dreams changed, filling my mind with bright colours, the reds and blues that Hespa and I used to long for to dye our dresses and perhaps even strands of our hair, too, if we dared. A kind of joy came over me, replacing the blood and cries of the dying.

  When I woke in the morning, the feeling of wellbeing was gone, and I decided to say nothing of the strange dream in case I sounded frivolous in the face of so much fear.

  I looked around expecting to find Lucien beside me, but there was no sign of him. Nor was he with Ryall or Tamlyn.

  ‘Where’s Lucien?’ I cried.

  ‘Look, Silvermay!’ Ryall nodded his head towards the door.

  Following his gaze, I gasped. The heavy door had been ripped from its hinges and leaned askew against the door jamb.

  ‘Only Lucien could have done that,’ said Tamlyn, who had awoken at the sound of our voices.

  A terrible thought slammed into me. My Lucien, my gentle darling who could regrow the arm of a young man he loved, could take a life just as quickly. ‘That woman — our gaoler! Is she all right?’ I jumped to my feet and hurried to the door, then squeezed past it into the passageway. There was the woman, slumped against the wall. ‘No!’

  I went to her and felt her brow. Still warm. She wasn’t dead, at least. I couldn’t see any bruises on her head or any reason for her to have fainted, but no amount of shaking would wake her.

  Ryall and Tamlyn joined me next to her.

  ‘Look, she’s smiling,’ said Ryall, and when I checked the woman again I found her lips curled into a bow, as though she was enjoying a pleasant dream. An idea came to me.

  ‘Ryall, last night did you have any … any unusual dreams?’

  He looked at me as though I’d gone mad.

  ‘I did,’ said Tamlyn. ‘Not the kind I had on our journey home to Haywode, but they were similar, sort of …’

  He searched for the word, and when it didn’t come immediately I suggested one for him.
‘Happy?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, a little sheepishly. ‘They’re still a wonder to me after so many years of dreamless sleep. Did you have the same?’

  I nodded, and only then did Ryall admit that he had dreamed as well.

  ‘Seemed a bit girlie to be dreaming in pink and green,’ he said with a sniff.

  ‘It was Lucien,’ I said softly. ‘He knew the noise of that door breaking open would wake us, so he put us into a deep sleep, just as he’s done to this woman.’

  Tamlyn looked around. ‘And if she stays asleep for another minute, we can walk free.’

  ‘To find Lucien,’ I said.

  ‘It’s not hard to guess where he’s headed, but he’ll be long gone by now,’ Tamlyn said.

  ‘Then the prize all those Wyrdborn have come for is travelling towards them,’ I said, ‘making their task even easier.’

  ‘Coyle,’ Tamlyn whispered. ‘You don’t think … no.’ He stopped, unable to put the idea into words.

  ‘That Lucien has gone to join him?’ I said, finishing Tamlyn’s thought. ‘No. Lucien chose us over Coyle back in Vonne.’

  ‘He chose you, Silvermay,’ Tamlyn corrected me. ‘I hope you’re right, but Lucien is still a Wyrdborn despite the Felan’s attempt to remove his magic. If he falls into Coyle’s hands, my father will find a way to use him.’

  ‘All the more reason to find him first,’ said Ryall, and already he was on the move along the passageway.

  Tamlyn went after him and I was quickly at his heels, glad to be gone from our prison at last. I just wished we weren’t rushing towards even greater danger.

  10

  Armies of One Man Alone

  Coyle’s eyes scanned the shoreline less than a mile away across the waves. An advance guard of Felan was already in place to repel the invaders — not enough to cause so many Wyrdborn the least trouble, but he could see more arriving through the gaps between the high dunes.

  ‘We should not delay much longer,’ said Hallig, who stood beside him at the railing of their ship.

  ‘Their magic is weak,’ Coyle replied with a dismissive flick of his hand. ‘They need ten of their kind to match one of us. At best they will hold us up for an hour or two. Once they are beaten we’ll go in search of the boy. I can feel him, Hallig, closer than I’d hoped. It’s a good sign. Lucien has sensed our presence, too, and his Wyrdborn blood is seeking its own kind.’

  ‘Blood,’ said Hallig, enjoying the word on his tongue. ‘That will make the job easier, don’t you think? Only you and I have a blood bond with him, as father and brother. It will guide him to us, as you say, and the first to reach him will surely have an advantage over the rest. This time we’ll convince Lucien to use his power at our bidding alone.’

  ‘True, Hallig, everything you say is true,’ murmured Coyle. All except those words you are too fond of using, he added silently. We. Our.

  Hallig was a fool if he thought Coyle would share the riches. In the mosaics of Nan Tocha, only one figure commanded the great warrior’s powers. His face might be hidden within an ornate helmet, but Coyle was certain it was his own, just as the face of the boy’s mother was unmistakably Nerigold’s.

  ‘We almost had him bent to our will, back in Vonne,’ he said to Hallig. ‘Lucien chose the soft comfort of that interfering girl instead, but once her head is parted from her body he will forget the love she’s shown him. Blood and the sword will be what he craves.’

  ‘Blood,’ Hallig said again, like a child who knows only one word.

  Noise from behind made Coyle turn. What he saw reminded him of how difficult his task had become in recent days, for Lucien’s story was no longer a secret he and Hallig kept to themselves. Leaning with his back against the mast was Kemper Boreman, who answered directly to King Chatiny, just as Coyle did. It was Boreman who had first guessed at the powers the boy possessed, and once one Wyrdborn knew, it wasn’t long before the news was carried throughout the kingdom on the wings of hawks, since they were more susceptible to Wyrdborn magic than other birds. Spread across the deck that morning Coyle counted five Wyrdborn besides Hallig and himself, and there were others preparing their weapons below deck.

  ‘This is that girl’s doing,’ he muttered. ‘She’ll die a hard death when I find her.’

  The girl’s agony was a pleasure he would savour when the time came. First, he must deal with the Wyrdborn who had accompanied him across the ocean. He let his eyes wander further, to take in the many ships at anchor nearby.

  ‘There’s not a single Wyrdborn left throughout the whole of Athlane,’ he said coldly. ‘Damn them all. But I’ve been thinking, Hallig. Perhaps we can use this to our advantage.’

  ‘What do you mean? I thought you wanted to send them all home somehow?’

  ‘Not at all. Once we possess the boy, we’ll make sure none of them returns to Athlane.’

  Hallig’s face showed his confusion, but Coyle didn’t care. Son or not, the fool was no more than a puppet in his own plans. He returned his attention to the other Wyrdborn. There had not been enough vessels in the entire kingdom to bring them separately and so, reluctantly, they had come ten to a boat, squabbling every league of the way. Rather than fight one another, they’d tormented the crew; more than one sailor had been flung overboard for merely smirking at a seasick Wyrdborn.

  ‘You! Come here,’ Coyle called to the captain, who scurried to obey like the lowliest cabin boy. ‘Send a message to the other ships. As soon as the last Wyrdborn has gone ashore, you are to sail back to Athlane. All of you.’

  ‘Will the Wyrdborn live in Erebis Felan from now on, my lord?’

  ‘They’ll all be staying here, yes,’ Coyle said.

  ‘Live’ was not the right word, but it would be foolish to hint at what he was planning. He needed the ships gone from these shores so that his rivals could not flee homeward once he turned Lucien’s awesome power upon them. The Felan would wither beneath the same onslaught, and when it was time for Coyle’s triumphant return to Athlane, he would take his pick of their ships.

  When the captain backed away bowing he looked deeply relieved to still be drawing breath.

  ‘Have you heard the Wyrdborn passengers speak to one another?’ Coyle asked. ‘Have any discussed the battle ahead?’

  Hallig shook his head. ‘They will do what the Wyrdborn always do; each will become an army of one man alone.’

  ‘Or one woman,’ Coyle said, nodding towards a feminine face that jutted from a suit of armour no different from the rest.

  ‘There has been little talking, no alliances made that I can see,’ Hallig continued. ‘They are all eager to reach the shore and find the boy they’ve heard about. None will say it, but each hopes to be the first and the rest of us can die on the beach.’

  ‘If the Felan get hold of any Wyrdborn’s sword, they can use it to kill him.’

  Hallig shrugged. ‘A dead Wyrdborn means one less rival in the search for Lucien.’

  It remained unsaid between them that neither would go to the aid of the other, despite the ties of blood between them. What if Hallig were the last of the Wyrdborn he needed to kill in order to stand supreme, Coyle mused. The truth of it was, he didn’t much care.

  11

  Death in the Meadow

  The sun had climbed well into the sky by the time we emerged into the square.

  ‘The little devil made us sleep longer than normal,’ I said.

  ‘Part of his plan, no doubt,’ said Ryall. ‘He is only little, but he’s cunning. He needed time to get ahead.’

  It might have been mid-morning but there weren’t many people about. Those we did see were either very old or very young, and all recognised us instantly. Most hurried away with their faces hidden, as though this would protect them from our foul magic. I couldn’t help a grim laugh, because there wasn’t a skerrick of magic between us now.

  ‘You’re those foreigners, aren’t you?’ said an old woman with more courage than the rest. She was leading two children by the hand tow
ards a collection of market stalls huddled into one corner of the square, but this didn’t stop her venting her anger. ‘Now more have come, many more. This is your doing — you have brought this evil on us.’

  When she’d passed us, I looked at Tamlyn, who knew what I was feeling. ‘We’ll make it right for them, Silvermay. And that means finding Lucien before the Wyrdborn do.’

  ‘We’ll need more than our own legs to catch up with him,’ said Ryall, and he went off down the nearest side street without another word.

  ‘Stay here, Silvermay,’ said Tamlyn. ‘Lucien might change his mind and come back this way.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To ask some questions while there are still people here who can answer them,’ and, like Ryall, he set off, leaving me none the wiser.

  I quickly had reason to wish they’d stayed by my side. My yellow dress, so different from the Felan’s clothes in style and material, made me easily recognised. It wasn’t just those who passed me in the street who turned hostile faces my way. There were many houses lining the square, all of them with a second and sometimes a third floor and windows that looked out at the Great Hall. Behind those windows, faces brooded and eyes sent glares at me that burned like the breath of a dragon.

  Ryall was the first to return, and he wasn’t alone. Three horses trailed behind him, the ugliest, most dispirited nags I had seen in all my sixteen years.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ he sighed before I could say a word. ‘But they’re the only horses left in the city.’

  Tamlyn approached from across the square. ‘Are they the best you could find?’

  Ryall didn’t bother repeating what he’d already told me. ‘Even these are useless unless we know where to go.’

  ‘That’s what I went to find out,’ said Tamlyn. ‘South, of course, but not along the coast. There’s an inland road which will be quicker.’ He pointed to one of the streets that branched off from the square. ‘My guess is Lucien climbed aboard one of the carts taking supplies to the battle. If we hurry, we might catch him before the Wyrdborn sense he is close.’