by Julia Knight
Valguard leant forward and talked earnestly. “I must have proof before this goes any further. Proof of magic, which he is far too subtle to let me have. Or proof he’d go against his oath to Aran. An oath to serve him. I know, know, that he will try to take you, as I said before. He wishes mastery of all Three Kingdoms. But I need proof soon, I can’t wait until he’s ready. I need you to make him show his hand.”
“What proof?”
He smiled again, and his eyes lingered on her curves. “Why, proof that he’s faithless, that he would consider his own wants above his word to Aran.”
Ah, so that was it. “I’m not sure he has any wants.”
Valguard laughed. “My lady, no man could be immune to your charms, if you wanted him to succumb.”
“You need me to seduce him?” The thought pleased her, though she was not sure it was possible. Maybe she just needed to try harder. Yes. He’d been concentrating on the alliance, nothing else. Well, she could make him lose his concentration, if she tried hard enough. Whatever else, it might rid her of this ridiculous crush. The day had just got a lot more interesting.
A Plague of Dreams
Ilfayne’s tower, south of the Ganheim border
Hilde paced and fretted on the topmost floor of Ilfayne’s tower. One of Ilfayne’s magic trinkets, the pendant that had led her to find him five years ago, had got them here. This tower close to the southern border of Ganheim might feel like home to her, or would if she could live here instead of wandering the world in Oku’s service. But then, this place was far too close to kyrbodans for her liking.
They needed horses and she’d flatly refused to go to the city with him for that, to feel the kyrbodans’ cold loathing of her, to talk to their lord, who wanted her dead but didn’t get his way only because of Ilfayne. It had taken her the better part of an hour to convince him she’d be fine on her own. Where else would be safer? It would be a brave man who came here uninvited.
She stared down from the tower window and watched him march back from the kyrbodan city. Every few paces he flicked his hand out and a clump of grass exploded into flame. It hadn’t gone well then, but she’d hardly dared to hope it would.
By the feel of his seething heart, he was regretting the visit too. She turned away from the window and opened the chest where he kept his wine. That might sweeten his temper a little, or it would if there was any. The chest was empty and that wouldn’t help. He reached the top of the stairs and paused. She could feel him trying to calm himself but he was too angry, angry and afraid. Good gods, what had they said to him this time? Nothing good. They never did.
She went out to him and found him standing on the spiral rune that marked the floor. He tried not to look at her, but his eyes kept lifting to her face before he would look sharply away. Fear wormed its way through her stomach. What in the gods’ names had they said? Finally he seemed to get himself under control and came to her, put his arms round her and held her close. She laid her head against his chest and listened to the quivering beat of his heart.
“What did he say?”
He tried a laugh but it didn’t come out right and he pulled away. “What you’d expect. Any wine in that chest?”
“No. So what—”
“Nothing! Nothing you’d want to hear anyway. He wasn’t best pleased when he realised you were with me. So, no horses. No anything. Herjan’s bloody arse, I need a drink. Are you sure there’s none?”
“Stop changing the subject. He’s said something, that’s for sure.”
“Bastard did a Seeing on me. You know how those unnerve me. It’s nothing, I promise, nothing you should worry about.”
“A Seeing? And what—”
He bent down and kissed her. Gods damn it, she hated when he did that to avoid telling her something. She tried to pull away but he caught her up in his arms and kissed her with a quiet desperation that took her breath away. When he finally took his lips from hers and laid his hand on her cheek she could feel the fear that swarmed through him.
“You were right, I have to go to Mimirin. And he showed me what I have to do to keep you safe.”
“Keep me safe? Wait, you have to go to Mimirin? Surely you mean we.”
He smiled softly and shook his head. “No, I mean me. You’re staying here.”
She pulled away from him. “I’m bloody well not! I have to go and warn Hunter. I have to help him.”
“I can do that as well as you can. You’re staying here.”
She folded her arms and glared at him. “Well, that makes a change. Normally you won’t leave me behind if I beg you.”
He reached out towards her but she backed away from his hand. He wasn’t going to change her mind, kiss her into submission as he usually did. Not this time. Not with Hunter’s life on the line. She was so sure.
“Hilde, if you come… Please, just trust me. It’s safer if you stay.”
The dream ran through her mind again. Ilfayne raising a flaming hand to her neck, the voice that boomed “You too.” She suppressed a shudder. Ridiculous. Ilfayne would never do such a thing. But then the sword cut through Hunter, and behind him Regin, their pain washed through her all over again so that it squeezed her heart. She had to go. Had to. No matter what he said.
“Then you’re going to have to lock me up, because I’m going if I have to walk the whole way. Anyway, think of all the trouble you’d get into without me.”
He grabbed her arm, too tight, his heart a panicky flutter in hers. “I’m serious! Gods damn you girl, please listen. I can’t let you. I can’t lose you. I can’t, don’t you understand?”
The trouble was she did understand what he was so afraid of. But she couldn’t just stand by and let Hunter die. She shook his arm off. “And I can’t stay, don’t you understand? He’s my only friend.”
“I’m your friend, aren’t I? And all I have is you. I have to look after you.”
“No, you don’t. I want a partner, not a bloody father!” She stalked into their room and grabbed her pack. She’d been ready to go since the moment they got here. When she turned round he was blocking the doorway, his face so desolate that all her anger melted away. Gods damn it! One day she would be able to stay angry with him. One day, but not today. She laid her hand on his. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… But I have to go. I’ve not so many friends I can afford to let them die.”
He gripped her fingers and ran his thumb over the back of her hand. Always so gentle. “I know it’s hard.”
“What did he See for you? I’m not a child. You can’t keep hiding everything from me. Tell me.”
He stared down at her hand in his as though it was the only thing in the world and tried a smile. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m not going to let it happen. And I hope his sodding tail falls off. You’re coming whether I like it or not, aren’t you?”
***
It was three days’ hard walking before they got to the first farm in Ganheim. The pass over the mountains was not an easy one on foot. Ilfayne did what he could with his silver travelling circles to get them past the worst of it, but stretching his mage powers too far was draining for him, not to mention risky. Hilde had no wish to end up part of a mountain.
Ilfayne was moody and fretful the whole way, which didn’t improve matters. His sleep seemed littered with dreams that disturbed him, that made him alternately scowl and leak tears. She would try to comfort him, feel the terrible guilt and despair that the dreams brought, but he would hunch away from her and mutter in his sleep. And wouldn’t talk to her about them, wouldn’t even admit he had any dreams.
Hilde kept finding herself on the verge of tears for no reason, and she was so exhausted she could barely put one foot in front of the other by the time she spotted the smoke rising from a farmhouse. No one was working the fields though. Odd, they should be harvesting. As they got closer she could see the place had an unkempt, neglected look about it, but smoke leaked from the chimney stack, so someone was there. They trudged through the closest field and the prob
lem became clear. The wheat had grown well enough but every ear was a stinking mass of mildew and rot. They weren’t harvesting because there was nothing to harvest except straw.
They came to the farmyard, a muddy hole festering with dung. Dear gods, what farmer who knew what he was doing would neglect his place like this? A young man came out from the barn, hollow-eyed and gaunt. He stopped and stared, as though shocked to see anyone, but seemed to recover well enough to walk towards them. He started when he saw Ilfayne’s missing hand and peered closer at all the trinkets that covered his waistcoat.
Ilfayne grinned brightly at him and held out his hand. The man blanched and looked at Hilde for some sort of support. His eyes flicked up to hers and the blood ran from his face so quickly, he might faint away there and then. His eyes flicked between the two of them and he began to gabble at Ilfayne. “I ain’t got nothing for you. Nothing you’d want. Please, you won’t hurt us?”
Ilfayne’s smile became strained. “No, I won’t hurt you. I want to buy some horses. Is your father here?”
The lad looked as if he was about to wet himself. “N…no, he passed on in the war, same as most all the men round here. There’s only me and me little brother. Please, we ain’t done nothing.”
Ilfayne glanced round the yard and Hilde could almost see what he was thinking. No wonder the farm was in such a state. This lad couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve during the war, and he’d been running the farm since then. Not the only one like that too by the sounds of it.
“Well then, can you sell me two horses?”
The lad nodded dumbly and led the way to a paddock round the back of the farmhouse. The group of scrawny-looking horses appeared no better fed than the lad.
“Don’t you feed them?” Hilde asked, aghast at the sight. A horse was a Ganheim man’s most prized possession, after his sword and breastplate. She’d never thought to see such neglect of them here, of all places.
“Don’t have nothing to feed ’em miss. No grain anyways. Hay and grass, that’s all we got, and not too much of that. All the grain crops got the mould, and it got in the hay too. Not just here, everywhere. No grain to be had for love nor money. And I has to keep as much grass for the sheep and cows as I can. Couldn’t eat horse, miss.”
Ilfayne muttered something under his breath and fished in one of his pouches. He pulled out a handful of coins. “I’ll take the best two and the tack to go with them. You’ve no grain at all for our journey?”
The lad stared at the coins in Ilfayne’s hand, his mouth opening and closing uselessly for a few moments before he managed to speak. “They ain’t worth that. Not the whole lot wouldn’t be worth that.”
Ilfayne shoved the coins at him. “Take it. Buy yourself something to eat. A lot to eat.”
The lad took the money in shaking hands and looked down oddly at Ilfayne. “They said you was an evil-minded bastard, begging your pardon.”
Ilfayne grinned and nodded towards Hilde. “I am, but she nags like a fishwife if I’m not nice occasionally.”
And there he was, back again in his usual good humour. Thank Kyr, not a moment too soon. His brooding had weighed on her heart like a stone. She hadn’t noticed how much till it was gone and she felt light enough to float away.
They got the horses as ready as they could and left a happy farm lad behind.
Mimirin
Mimirin, Ganheim
Nerinna was relieved when Mimirin finally rose up out of the waves, a bright spark on the horizon shrouded by black cliffs known as the Giant’s Teeth because they ate boats. The sun reflecting off the city’s dazzling white walls almost blinded her to start with, but as they got closer she could make out slender white towers and a stronghold that rose above the city like a guardian.
And the land around was so green! Nerinna had never seen a land so bright with trees and grass. Even her most fertile estates were parched compared to this. But the verdant landscape came with a price. She was frozen to her bones, and not even the thick shawl that Aran brought for her could keep her warm.
Aran seemed almost to burst with pride as he pointed out various buildings. Nerinna couldn’t blame him; the city was as beautiful as anything she could have imagined. Hunter stood quiet and thoughtful by the rail and his eyes softened as he watched his home come closer.
A huge press of people at the dockside, a sea of noisy blond-haired giants, quite bewildered her. Red-and-black banners fluttered everywhere and made Valguard scowl. Red and black for the Duke of Mimirin—and for Regin.
Aran led her down the gangplank first and there was a rush of sound from the crowd. Some sort of delegation was waiting for them, a host of men in mail and brightly coloured breastplates, a girl of about fourteen and two children of around two and three. The teenager ignored Nerinna, flashed a grin at Aran and ran past them to Hunter, who was just coming down the plank to a roar of approval from the crowd.
The foremost of the men came towards them with words of welcome on his lips, but Nerinna watched out of the corner of her eye as Hunter grabbed the girl and swung her round. The girl laughed and flung her arms round him, kissed his cheek soundly. That must be Amma, his foster daughter and Aran’s sister. The two younger children ran towards him and raised their arms, wanting to be picked up too. Hunter duly did so, one at a time, and was rewarded with slobbery toddler kisses. A family welcome that made Nerinna turn her head away. Had her father ever welcomed her like that, or her uncles? She couldn’t remember them ever doing so. She couldn’t remember even her mother greeting her like that. It left her feeling oddly empty. Alien and far from home. Then she had to smile and appear interested because Aran was introducing her to someone.
“Jolnin, this is Chieftain Nerinna, who has graciously consented to be my bride. Nerinna, this is Lord Jolnin, Lord Hunter’s brother who rules the Duchy of Mimirin while Hunter’s away.”
Jolnin smiled warmly and took her hand, kissed the back of it and bowed his head. His blond warrior’s knot bobbed over his shoulder, the red-and-black family braid showing bright against it. “My lady, we are honoured that you grace our city.” He said it with such a look of warm humour that she liked him instantly.
Hunter came over to them and handed a toddler to Jolnin. “Here, have your son back. You could have kept him from the jam before you let him loose. I’ll be sticky for a week.”
Jolnin laughed, set the boy down and the two men clasped an arm round the other’s shoulder. They were all so warm with each other. It both fascinated and frightened her at the same time.
Fine horses were brought forward and Nerinna was shocked when Aran held a stirrup for her to mount. She could ride, and the horse was fitted with a side-saddle to accommodate her dress but, well, she never did ride, or not in public. It was unseemly.
Jolnin seemed to notice her reticence and stepped in with a smile to cover her confusion. “In Ganheim our ladies don’t hide away in carriages. They ride. Any man would want to show you off. Don’t deny young Aran the chance.”
Aran looked at her eagerly and she sighed. This once then. And only this once. She would make sure a carriage was the first thing she ordered. For now she took Aran’s help and mounted the horse.
They made their slow way through the city, along the black-paved streets and white houses, up the circuitous route towards the citadel. The welcome stunned her in its intensity. Not the welcome for her and Aran, though they received plenty of cheers and thrown flowers, but for Hunter. He had to stop more than once for the people who surrounded his horse, shouted his name and showered him with petals. No one could doubt this was his city, his people.
Finally they came to a large square that faced the citadel. It towered over them, at once benign, beautiful and exuding power and grace. Hunter stopped once more, not for the crowd this time, and slid from his horse. A pathway opened up between him and a small temple. Red and black fluttered from the windows. A temple to Regin? Valguard was right. This had gone beyond mere reverence for his ancestor. This was border
ing on heresy. Maybe she should have insisted on ridding both the countries of the shrines.
Hunter made his way to the door and hands reached out from all around, trying for just a touch of the sword. Shadow’s Curse. A sigh rippled through the crowd as Hunter entered the temple and came out without Regin’s sword. A small scuffle broke out as people raced to be the first inside to pay their respects.
Valguard drew up next to Nerinna and scowled at the crowd. He said nothing but nodded his head towards two guards decked out in green cloaks and breastplates painted with a bloody banner. Justice Disciples. Even the name made Nerinna shiver. Oku could be a harsh master, and these men carried out his law. Even Hunter had no sway over them. In Ganheim and now Armand, their word was absolute.
The Disciples moved towards the temple, took up station either side of the door and glowered at everyone who dared to enter as though they were memorising faces for later use. Suddenly the rush slackened, and Nerinna didn’t blame them. She was glad when Hunter got back on his horse and they moved on.
***
Nerinna walked down into the Great Hall, her hand on Aran’s arm, for the formal dinner to celebrate the announcement of their betrothal. The citadel was like no other building she’d ever seen. The walls seemed to stretch upwards forever and lamplight glowed mellow against the white walls. Lofty, gracious and so very cold. She forgot the chill now though. All eyes were on them, on her, and knowing she was the centre of attention always warmed her. She smiled her most gracious smile and made ready for the cascade of introductions.
Already some of the women were whispering behind their hands and she caught a few jealous looks that made her smile. She straightened her back and glided through the crowds on Aran’s arm to the dais.
Valguard and Hunter were waiting there, along with Jolnin and a dozen or so other nobles. Nerinna nodded to two of her own nobles also seated at the table but chose to ignore Arashin and his sneering smile. All the Gan men stood as she was seated and the women looked at her with a variety of expressions from frank curiosity to open jealousy.