***
The old ghost castle didn’t have any ghosts at all, at least to Cal’s knowledge. It was just a sprawling ruin from the long forgotten days of the monarchy, before the forest grew hostile and turned on its keepers after Branor Turani, the last king, went mad with the power of the Rhaveren and slew everyone who lived there, including his beloved family.
It had been fought over for centuries for its strategic value, even though it was nothing but a broken husk, crumbling under the Sivor’s patient, leafy hand. In the past, a hundred men could have held it indefinitely, but there were now so many gaps in its dizzying maze of once-proud walls that a clever man with silent feet could slit the throats of half of them before anyone noticed.
Cal was a clever man, but he wasn’t interested in taking the castle. Hew could have it, if he wanted it. He was only after Ashrad. For once, both he and the sword had the same aim, and that made them both very, very strong.
“You’re going by yourself?” Hew asked as they gazed up at the fortress, concealed behind the rearing roots of a colossal oak tree. It was midnight, and Cal had hoped to leave the rest of the men behind as he completed his task, but Hewryn knew him too well, and he had been followed.
“Unless you want to come with me and tell me not to kill him, so I can ruin your life some more,” replied Cal, a little unsure of where they stood after Hew’s admonishments. They hadn’t talked to each other for the rest of the day or even at supper, which was unusual and unsettling. He wanted to apologize, but he wasn’t sure what he had done wrong. Nothing, really. Hew was his own man: he had never forced him to do anything. His happiness was his own business, not Cal’s responsibility – they were friends and equals, not lord and thane.
“I don’t care if you kill him,” Hew said, not taking the bait. “I want him dead nearly as much as you do. But if you go there alone, you’ll end up trying to take them all on, and you will die in the attempt.”
“No, I won’t. It won’t let me.”
“It doesn’t care about you.”
“You don’t seem to, either.”
Hew made an annoyed noise in his throat and smacked the back of Cal’s head as hard as he could.”
“Hey! That hurt,” Cal hissed, trying not to shout and draw the attention of the enemy.
“Good. You’re an idiot. Don’t ever say that to me again.”
“Don’t hit me again. Listen, I’m sorry. You know what I’m like.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Do you think –” Cal started after a moment, but he couldn’t continue.
“What?”
“Do you think he still has the child?”
Hewryn didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. What will you do if he does?”
Cal couldn’t reply. He had no idea what to say.
“Let’s go back to the camp,” Hew coaxed. “We’re half a mile away. He can’t possibly know we’re even in the forest unless the two of us stay here chatting like old biddies. He won’t be going anywhere until morning.”
“All right. You’ll come with me, though, right?”
“Always.”
Salt and Oil, Blood and Clay Page 6