The Aware (The Isles of Glory Book 1)

by Larke, Glenda

  When Ruarth found me I was just beginning to swim in towards the beach close to Creed.

  I trod water as I spoke to him. ‘Did you find Duthrick?’

  He fluttered around, nodding. He made some odd movements, and it took me a moment to realise that he was trying to show me something. At first I couldn’t see what it was, but when I drifted up on the crest of a swell, I saw it. There were two ships under sail, the first just about to make anchor opposite Creed, a little way further up the coast. ‘Keepers?’ I asked.

  He nodded.

  Two ships. So that was what Duthrick had been waiting for—reinforcements. Not another one of the Awarefolk, but another ship. And the right combination of tide and current that would enable ships to leave the harbour at Gorthan Docks once more.

  I started swimming again, this time towards the nearest of the ships.

  ###

  I had never heard such a noise. Never.

  It wasn’t like thunder, although that was the closest thing I could think of to describe it. It was as if the air itself was being rent apart from sky to ground. It was a sound so loud that it could be felt. It hurt my ears. I felt the shock of it through the water. It was the loudest thing I had ever heard, and the most unnatural. And yet I couldn’t believe it could be man-made. I thought it was some sort of divine intervention—I was almost ready to convert to the Menod, to believe than somehow Alain had called up God himself to vent His anger.

  I was barely a hundred paces from the first of the now anchored ships, the Keeper Fair. They were both encased in webs of sylv warding: blue-spun threads and panes of silver-shimmer connected the undulating ward pillars that stretched from the mast top to waterline. I saw puffs of smoke all along the landward side of both ships. The smoke appeared to come from some kind of metal tubes sticking out of the vessels—tubes that hadn’t been there last time I had seen the ship—and a moment later I heard that awful sound again…

  I swam on, almost out of my mind with exhaustion and fear.

  Duthrick was on the deck when I clambered up the rope netting they let down for me. He gaped when he saw who it was they had fished out of the water. He didn’t notice Ruarth, who perched himself unobtrusively on the rigging above.

  I stood there in a growing pool of water and looked at those horrible things that had made—and were still making—all the noise. There was an acrid smell in the air that was almost as bad as dunmagic… I knew then that this was what the Keepers had been protecting so assiduously in the ship’s holds.

  ‘Syr-sylv,’ I said, my voice hoarse, ‘what is this?’

  He gave a superior sort of smile. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘Look, Blaze—at Creed.’

  I looked. There was another roar of sound, another flash of flame, more smoke, more smell. The deck reverberated beneath my feet. I wanted to run away, to hide, but I did as Duthrick asked. I looked at Creed. And saw the wall of a dwelling burst. When the dust and smoke had cleared away, I could see the black gape of a hole—a hole larger than a man—in what had been the wall.

  I felt the blood leave my face. I had to clutch the railing to keep myself from falling. I didn’t understand a thing. But the connection between the tubes on the ships, the hideous sound they made and the hole in the wall was clear. These tubes were throwing things at Creed just as a bow sends an arrow, but these projectiles moved so fast I couldn’t even see them. More than that, when they landed they seemed to do a disproportionate amount of damage.

  I’d never felt so utterly at a loss. Tor and Alain and Flame were still there somewhere, and I didn’t know how to save them.

  I turned to Duthrick. ‘Sylvmagic? Sylv powers should not be used to kill!’

  He was still smug. ‘It’s not magic. Anyone could do this, were they taught what to use and how to use it.’

  ‘Stop it!’

  ‘Stop it? You asked for our attack today! You’ll have to tell me about that bird some time, by the way. A Dustel, I assume? I’ve heard of such… Anyway, I assumed you had a good motive for your request.’

  I hunted around for a reason that would stop him. ‘Flame is in there. She is your one lead to the whereabouts of the Castlemaid. She alone knows—and she does know; I’m sure of that. In fact,’ I added, improvising, ‘there is a good chance that the Castlemaid is in Creed right at this moment.’

  ‘You have proof of that?’

  ‘I’d bet my life on it.’

  ‘Flame told me she would deliver the Castlemaid if I saved you, you know.’

  Shit! ‘You agreed?’

  ‘No. She insisted I attack immediately, but we weren’t ready. Besides, I was sure she was lying. If she knew where the Castlemaid was, she would have said so before. No woman would have her arm cut off rather than give up that information.’

  That’s what you think, you cruddy bastard, I thought. Flame’s worth ten of you… ‘Trust me, Duthrick,’ I said. ‘The Castlemaid is in Creed.’

  The look he gave me was heavy with suspicion, not trust. ‘If I halt the attack, I lose the element of surprise. The dunmagicker might escape.’

  ‘You have the land routes guarded?’

  ‘Of course. With archers. And wards. They were already in place; we’d planned an assault at dawn tomorrow anyway. Blaze, you had better have a good reason for telling me to change the time of the attack. And an even better one for wanting it to stop.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were going to—to—disintegrate the village! And Flame and the Castlemaid along with it! Look, Duthrick, what are you worrying about? Even if the dunmagicker escapes this—this bombardment, he will run into your guards.’ That is, if he doesn’t slip past them, blurring himself with dunmagic, if he doesn’t flatten the wards with dunmagic… The trouble was, Duthrick knew the possibilities as well as I did. Which was why he was standing off the coast, hurling his whatever-they-were at Creed. He’d already lost too many sylvs to this dunmagicker; he didn’t want to lose more. ‘Give me a boat to shore, and an hour and I’ll bring Flame off for you. And if I find the Castlemaid, I’ll bring her as well. One hour without shooting from the moment my foot touches the shore, Duthrick.’

  He opened his mouth to refuse.

  Behind me someone said, ‘I suggest you do as she asks.’ I turned, to find Ransom standing there. He was pale, but determined. ‘You will find me grateful, Syr-sylv.’

  The promise of his words was clear and I could see Duthrick thinking them over. To have the future Holdlord of Bethany further indebted to the Keeper Isles was not a possibility to be passed over lightly. The Councillor stared hard at the Holdheir, then looked back at me, and finally nodded. He gave the signal to his men and the firing stopped. A flag signal went up to the other ship as well. The noise had somehow turned the world upside-down, so that now the ensuing silence seemed deafening.

  ‘I’ll come with you on the boat,’ Ransom said to me. ‘And I’ll wait for you on the beach.’

  I nodded, too surprised and worn-out to feel gratitude. It was the first time he had shown real courage; his need of Flame was giving him backbone, it seemed. In the boat on the way to shore, he asked me if she was all right. He was trying to sound calm, but his voice shook.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘I think the dunmagicker has placed another subversion spell in her. If he has, you’re going to have to persuade Duthrick to let some of his sylvs use their powers to save her before it spreads. She won’t give them what they want to know, not now, so you’ll have to press Duthrick to heal her anyway. It won’t be easy.’

  He nodded, his lips closed tight in a way that boded ill for Duthrick if he didn’t help. It appeared that Ransom was beginning to grow up.

  I bent over so that I could speak in his ear without being overheard by any of the six sylvs who were rowing the boat. ‘What are those terrible things the Keepers are using against Creed?’

  He answered in a whisper, pleased to be able to show off his knowledge to me. ‘They call them cannon-guns. They put a flame to some black powder inside the b
arrel and it sort of bursts out.’ He looked puzzled. ‘I don’t really understand how. Anyway, the bursting blows a stone ball down the tube and through the air.’

  I looked from the ship to the shore. ‘All that way across the sea to Creed? And can mere stone balls do that much damage?’ It seemed an unlikely story, not that I could think of a better explanation.

  ‘Some of the, um, projectiles are made of metal and they are filled with the same black powder, or something similar. And some of them have metal nails inside as well. They burst when they hit the target.’

  ‘Burst?’

  ‘That’s what Duthrick told me. They sort of explode, just as the seed pods of jump-beans explode when left in the sun. Only these things spew forth fire and smoke and nails, as well as the metal that encased them. They do a lot of damage.’ He shuddered slightly as he looked back at the ship. The mouths of the cannon-guns all seemed to be pointing in our direction.

  ‘What is this black powder?’

  ‘I don’t know. They won’t talk about it, but I do know where they get it, or perhaps where they get some of the ingredients in it: Breth. I overheard some of the sylvs talking.’

  Breth. Black powder that made cannon-guns bark and throw things. Cannon-guns so important that the Keepers kept them secret and wrapped up in sylvmagic as though they were the state treasure. Cannon-guns so powerful they could flatten buildings many, many paces away. Cannon-guns and power. The Keepers desperate to give the Castlemaid to the Breth Bastionlord to keep him happy, against all rules of decency.

  Everything fell into place.

  I knew now why the Keepers wanted the Castlemaid so badly.

  ###

  I left Ransom in the boat on the beach, together with the sylvs who had rowed us across. I didn’t doubt that if there was any threat whatsoever to the Holdheir, he would be rowed back to the Keeper Fair promptly, whether or not he wanted to go—and I would be left to fend for myself.

  I didn’t know what to expect as I approached the village. The Keeper Fair had continued its bombardment as we rowed in and this had kept people under cover, but true to Duthrick’s word, the shooting stopped again the moment I disembarked. I approached the village cautiously, choosing an inconspicuous route through the empty cockle trays stacked in rows between the beach and the first of the houses. Ruarth flew ahead of me, leading the way.

  ‘Do you know where she is?’ I asked him.

  He perched on a cockle box long enough to shake his head.

  ‘In that case, we’ll split up. If you find her, come and get me.’ When we reached the first street, I pointed to the right. ‘I’ll go this way.’ He nodded and flew off.

  The place was a mess. So many of the lovely white buildings were wrecked, with holes through roofs and walls. Some houses were on fire. There were wounded everywhere, and several bodies as well, most of them slaves. The air was full of shell-dust and feathers, the latter being all that remained of someone’s wader flock. Slaves were aimlessly rushing this way and that; dunmagickers, real and subverted, were giving contradictory orders. No one took any notice of me. I suppose I didn’t look too different from most of the slaves: my hair was salt-matted, my clothes torn, my face ravaged with fatigue and worry. I was barefoot too, but that didn’t worry me. I’d spent much of my life without shoes.

  I grabbed a slave who didn’t seem to be doing anything. I had to harden myself just to touch him; the dunmagic bonds that kept him subservient were foul enough to have me gagging. ‘What’s happening?’ I asked.

  He wrung his hands. ‘I don’t know! The buildings fell down! They say the Master is under that one—’ He pointed at the building that contained the torture room.

  I was far from elated. Tor was probably also in that building. ‘Where’s the Stragglerman with Awareness? And the Cirkasian sylv?’

  The slave didn’t know and began to look at me suspiciously, so I left him. I knew that none of the slaves had any will to help me; quite the reverse. If I aroused suspicion, they would tell the nearest dunmaster.

  I sniffed the air, looking for traces of sylvmagic, not so easy when the place was saturated with its opposite. When I couldn’t smell it, I went instead into the dining hall, which was still intact. My sword was still suspended above the throne and it was the work of seconds to have it down and in my hand. I took Tor’s as well. Better yet, away from the people outside, I could smell the sweetness of sylvmagic. It was almost swamped by the dun, but it was there. Flame had to be in the building.

  I found Morthred’s living quarters on the other side of the hall. There didn’t seem to be anyone about. I went from room to room, following the sylv scent.

  Without Awareness, I would never have found her. She was in a bedroom on the corner of the building, and the corner had been blown away by Duthrick’s damn cannon-guns. The shell blocks of much of the outside wall had disintegrated into white powder and shell-grit; the bottle-glass windows had blown out; the furniture was just so much firewood. Dust hung in the air like stirred-up silt in a wave, and about as breathable. I followed the glimmer of blue.

  Underneath all the litter I found Flame.

  She was conscious, but shaken. I heaved away some of the debris and gently brushed off the worst of the dust, expecting to find her terribly injured. When I couldn’t find anything broken I was afraid to believe it and examined her again, just to make sure. Then I decided that she was suffering more from the force of the explosion, which must surely have flung her across the room, than from any more obvious injury. She was not, however, entirely unscathed: there was still the harm she had incurred before the building had been hit—at the base of her throat there was an angry red patch of dunmagic contagion.

  She was beginning to collect herself and smiled weakly at me, but her eyes didn’t reflect anything that resembled amusement.

  I knelt there beside her, my throat tied up in knots. I couldn’t believe how brave she had been, how much she had been willing to do to save Tor and me.

  It was a while before I found my voice. ‘Of all the crazy, barnacle-skulled idiots—do you think I pulled you out of his stinking scarlet shit once, just to have you walk back in? Deliberately?’

  ‘It was worth a try. Duthrick wouldn’t help. I did try… But he said he couldn’t attack immediately. So I came myself.’

  ‘God, Flame!’ I helped her to sit up, supporting her as she swayed. ‘Look where it’s got you—and we can hardly amputate this time. Unless you have a hankering to carry your head under your arm instead of on top of your neck.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have had much fun in bed with Tor next time around if I hadn’t come. Allow me that much.’

  ‘They’ve probably done it all to him anyway.’ Terrified I was right, I was ungracious.

  She shook her head. The bleakness in her was wrenching. ‘No. Morthred is waiting for me to do it—of my own accord—once this subversion takes full effect. He loved telling me that. His idea of fun. Tor’s still intact somewhere.’

  My relief was intense. ‘You don’t know where?’

  She shook her head.

  I helped her to her feet. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I think so. A little confused. What happened?’

  ‘I’ll explain later. Right now I’m taking you to the Keepers.’ I gestured at the new sore on her body. ‘Ransom will put pressure on them to use their magic to stop that.’

  There was a gleam of hope within her. ‘Will they do it this time?’

  ‘They’d better, or I’ll carve them up personally. Starting with Duthrick,’ I said grimly. ‘I’m through with asking nicely. Anyway, let’s get out of here.’

  ‘Oh, but I can’t! Morthred’s warded me again.’

  I gave a chuckle. ‘He must have put one of his wards in the corner. It’s not there any more.’ I waved a hand at the ruins of the wall. There were a few lines of dunspell red flickering aimlessly in the gap, but they had no strength or purpose.

  ‘It’s gone?’ she asked, hardly able to believe
it. ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Apparently. Believe me, Flame, there’s nothing there to stop you walking through that hole in the wall. Let’s go.’ I took her arm and helped her across the wreckage of the room to the gap. But when I peered out I saw a dunmagicker standing nearby giving orders to some slaves. I drew my head back in. ‘We’ll have to wait a moment,’ I said.

  ‘What’s happening here anyway? What’s all the noise? Where’s Morthred?’

  ‘Trapped under one of the ruined buildings apparently. The Keepers are attacking. Ask Ransom to explain the details.’

  ‘What about Tor?’

  ‘I shall try to find him.’ I remembered the collapsed buildings and wondered if he was still alive anyway. My hope bottomed as quickly as it had crested.

  ‘I can help—’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You can hardly stand up straight.’ I was having trouble doing that myself, but at least I hadn’t been half-buried under a wall and I didn’t have a poisonous dunmagic sore eating away at me. ‘You’ve got to get that spell fixed as soon as possible. The smaller it is, the less energy has to be expended to cure it, and the more inclined Duthrick will be to allow someone to fix it.’ I sounded as snappish as an irritated crab, so I softened the tone a little and added, ‘Flame, you’ve done enough. It’s my turn now. All I’ve been doing so far is sitting around in a variety of prisons playing with my toes.’ I touched her hair gently. ‘You’ve been through quite enough.’

  Her glance darted involuntarily to what remained of the bed.

  I added, ‘Nothing can touch what you are inside—nothing. Unless you let it.’

  ‘Yes. I know. You showed me that. Although…it’s hard.’

  I nodded. She slipped her hand into mine, and we gazed at each other in understanding, trying not to remember things that were better forgotten. A chirping from beyond the hole brought us back to the present. ‘Ruarth!’ she cried and he came to perch on her shoulder.