The Ragged Man

by Lloyd, Tom

  The shrine was in the form of an ornate weapon-stand in the centre of the room that bore a crossed sword and axe, and, underneath, a brass prayer bowl stained by decades of blood offerings. All around the weapon-stand were symbols of Karkarn and his Aspects. A fireplace on the left, behind the weapon-stand, was occupied by a black-iron dragon, burning the incense that filled the air in its upturned claws. The walls were festooned with weapons, and links of copper armour, each one inscribed with the name of a fallen Ghost.

  Tila left the door open a finger-width and went over to Vesna, who was sitting on the floor, his black-iron-clad hand pressed against his temple as though praying to Lord Death.

  ‘Vesna?’ she whispered, trying to ignore the changes and just see the man she loved underneath.

  He flinched and gave a great sigh before looking up.

  Tila felt her eyes widen at the sight of the ruby on his cheek, but it was the exhaustion in his eyes that chilled her more.

  ‘He blames me,’ Vesna whispered, ‘as well he might.’

  Tila sat down beside him, taking his armoured hand in hers. ‘Carel grieves, nothing more. Grief makes liars of us all. He does not mean what he says.’

  ‘I should have stopped him,’ Vesna insisted, ‘I should have died in his place.’

  Tila felt her breath catch at the very thought, but she forced it away. ‘Do you think that is what he would have wanted? You never understood how Isak could be so accepting of your feelings for me, but it’s because he realised what it meant to be a white-eye after that first battle. Violence flowed through his veins, but he found a reason to channel it. As he watched our feelings for each other grow, Isak realised he could live with the violence. He knew he had to accept it as his lot in life, so that others might find something different, something better.’

  ‘And what about Isak?’ Vesna said bitterly. ‘What does he get for his sacrifice? He was just a boy!’

  She pulled his unresponsive hand closer and finally felt his fingers close about hers. ‘I didn’t say it was a fair exchange, just that Isak was happy to make it. And remember; he’s one of the Chosen, Isak’s place in the land of no time is assured.’

  A discreet cough came from behind her. ‘Curious that you bring that up,’ said a quiet voice behind her.

  Tila barely had time to turn before Vesna was upright and standing protectively in front of her. After a moment she felt him relax and step slightly away so she could see the speaker. It was a man, that much she could tell, and he appeared to be dressed in shifting robes of darkness. As her mouth fell open in astonishment, the figure gave a dismissive gesture with both arms and the black swirl melted into nothing, revealing a white silk tunic and both arms covered in ornate bronze armour.

  ‘Lord Isak has not knelt before the Chief of the Gods, he has not passed to the land of no time,’ said Karkarn, God of War, bowing to Tila with all ceremony.

  In her astonishment and horror Tila found herself unable to move, let alone kneel before the God, but his imperious face showed no displeasure.

  ‘What do you mean? Say it plainly,’ Vesna growled.

  ‘Remember your place, my Iron General — it is not to question me,’ the God said coldly.

  ‘How am I supposed to serve you if you withhold information from me?’

  ‘Stop your petulance,’ Karkarn said sharply, his face flickering slightly between the cool, emotionless expression and the wild face that Tila guessed was his Berserker Aspect. ‘It is not for you to know the secrets of the Land, especially if they were kept from you by the one you grieve.’

  ‘Isak?’ Tila found herself blurting out, ‘this is his doing?’ She stopped, casting her mind back to the months he’d spent in Tirah before leaving with the army. ‘Is that what he was up to — what he and Mihn were conspiring? He was planning for his own death?’

  ‘What happens after death is not my domain,’ Karkarn replied, ‘and Lord Death is not one to be questioned idly on the subject. I do know that your white-eye has not passed through the halls of Death, and that is no simple feat.’

  ‘What does it mean?’ she asked, her voice breaking.

  Karkarn gestured towards Vesna. ‘I merely answer my servant’s plea,’ he said, and vanished in the blink of an eye.

  ‘Vesna, what did he mean by that?’ Tila asked, bewilderment clear in her voice.

  The count took Tila’s hand once again. ‘I questioned the choices I had made, the service I had given Isak. I don’t know where this path will lead, but what hope do I have if I’ve already failed those around me?’

  ‘But now you know that isn’t true — you know Isak was fixed upon this path, wherever it took him?’

  ‘I wish it were as simple as that,’ he sighed, looking down at his love. ’But yes, it’s at least clear now that Isak had a plan — why he could not trust me with it, I don’t know — Ah, damnation! I’ve as many questions now as I had before — ’ He stopped for a moment, then said, ‘No, maybe not quite. At least I can believe he didn’t die for nothing. It’s scant comfort when my dear friend is dead, but it’s something.’

  Tila stood on her tiptoes and drew him close. Vesna wrapped his arms around the young woman and bent to her, and she kissed him. They stood together, embracing closely, for several minutes, until Vesna returned the kiss with surprising fervour.

  When Tila did at last pull back slightly, she settled her cheek against his. ‘It’s been too long since you last did that,’ she murmured, breathing in the scent of his body. She kissed Vesna lightly on the throat and looked up at him, relieved to see some of the strain on his face had eased.

  ‘It has, and I have needed it badly.’ Vesna patted the pauldron fused to his shoulder. ‘Anything more might be a bit uncomfortable, I’m afraid.’

  Tila ignored him and ran her fingers tenderly over the black-iron plate. ‘It’s certainly not enough to put me off,’ she declared, her fingers moving to his cheek, ‘even if you are wearing more jewellery these days too. Has anything else changed?’

  Vesna laughed, for the first time in what felt like years. ‘Not the man inside,’ he said. ‘Karkarn was insistent that he was not looking for a warrior to fight in his name. He wanted the man I am, and so a man I remain.’

  ‘But you are still changed; I can feel it in your arms. You’ve been touched by a God; you carry a part of him within you. Do you still need sleep? Food? Will Karkarn visit us every day? Will you age like a man, or a God?’

  Vesna raised his fingers to her lips to stop the questions. ‘I can’t answer, not yet, but I can assure you that I’m still a man, with all of a man’s needs and frailties. The rest is unknown; we’ll have to discover the answers together.’ He gestured towards where Karkarn had been standing a few moments before. ‘As you’ve seen, my God is reluctant to reveal everything.’

  ‘And what of me?’ Tila asked in a small voice.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Her eyes lowered and her hands fell away. ‘Where do your loyalties lie now? This cannot have failed to change you inside. Whatever you believed when the offer was first made, you now have a God’s interests to serve.’ She hesitated, then, her voice barely audible, she said, ‘What room is there in your life for a foolish girl half your age?’

  ‘Tila, my Tila,’ Vesna said, tilting her head up to look her in the eye, ‘it would take more than the tears of a God to change my heart.’ He took her hands again, and pulled her close, and kissed her, gently. ‘Tila, I know the duty I now bear, but you have to believe that it will never eclipse what I feel for you. Just as the rage of the Gods turned mild-mannered priests into fanatics, so I have been irrevocably changed by you, and I am equally devoted to my cause.’

  She blushed, and squeezed his hands. She was turning her head up for another kiss when her eyes widened and she stopped back half a pace. ‘Vesna, that reminds me: Lesarl’s been investigating the fanatics further and he thinks it was those who were actively praying when the spell over Scree was broken were the ones most badly affecte
d. You mustn’t expect all of Karkarn’s priests to accept you easily.’

  Vesna looked at his beloved. He had been agonising for days over how he would explain his new condition and that really wasn’t the response to his declaration he’d been expecting. ‘Well, thank you for ruining the moment for me! Do you have to think like a politician all the time?’ He smiled to take the sting out of his words, and Tila blushed again, this time in embarrassment.

  ‘I’m sorry, I just remembered, and it’s important.’ Suddenly she poked him hard in the chest. ‘Hang on, didn’t you just compare me to the bloodlust that’s been tearing the Land apart these last few months?’

  ‘I . . . ah — ’ Vesna stammered, ‘no, no — I didn’t mean it that way at all!’

  ‘And yet that’s how it came out. You soldiers really are as brainless as mules, sometimes.’ Tila’s face lit up, and she hugged him. ‘You’re very, very lucky I’m still going to marry you, Count Vesna; I can’t think how you’d ever manage around all these Gods without me.’

  Vesna held her close, immeasurably cheered. Just the sight of this beautiful girl, the scent of her perfume, the touch of her soft skin, had done much to lift the bleakness surrounding him, though his heart remained heavy.

  ‘I should thank you for that, then — and believe me, I do,’ he said. ‘So. Have you set a date for this salvation of mine?’

  ‘A month from now,’ Tila replied promptly. ‘I would drag you before Lord Fernal right this very minute if it were up to me, but my mother would never forgive me, and that is too great a burden for us both to bear into our new life. Much of her family live in Ked, and need time to get here. But Mother believes it is possible to organise what she’s describing as “a modest celebration” in a month. And the Gods themselves help anyone who gets in her way — she may be my mother, but that woman would terrorise the Reapers themselves if they stood between her and her only daughter’s wedding.’

  ‘A month?’ Vesna croaked.

  ‘A month,’ she confirmed, a steely look in her eye. ‘As short a time as possible — because you may well be sent off to fight at any moment.’

  Despite the turmoil in his head, Vesna had the sense not to argue. Very carefully, very deliberately he closed his mouth, trying not to swallow visibly. He loved this woman with all his heart, but he had been a bachelor — and a highly popular one at that — for many years, and couldn’t help but feel daunted at the new trick this old dog was going to learn. But he had made his decision. ‘A month it is then. If there’s fighting to be done, I suspect it’ll be in Tirah anyway.’

  ‘Really?’ Within a blink of an eye the quick-witted politician was back. ‘Can you tell me why?’

  ‘Suzerain Temal and Scion Ranah were awaiting us at the border — with troops. I doubt they’ll be the only ones. Now the tribe’s leadership is in question, support and swords will be up for sale — and don’t expect them to all side against the clerics, either.’

  ‘All the more reason for us to be quick about it then,’ she said with a mock-stern tone. ‘There’ll be no wriggling out of it this time, my love.’

  Vesna smiled and allowed her to take his arm and lead him to the door.

  ‘I remember once,’ Tila added with a sly smile as she closed to door to the shrine, ‘being told to treat my husband like a God on my wedding night.’ She patted his black-iron vambrace. ‘It is good I won’t have to pretend now.’

  Mihn woke with the sense that something was out of place. This was an exhausting existence, not just caring for the two of them and hunting enough to feed a white-eye’s appetite, but being constantly on guard, alert for dangers both natural and unnatural. Most mornings he drifted into wakefulness slowly, but today he found his eyes wide open and staring at the crossbeam above his bed. He had hung a blanket over it to give one end of the bed an element of privacy, though still able to keep an eye on Isak during his nightmares. He found it oddly comforting.

  Now he peered at Isak’s bed, and immediately reached for his boots as he realised it was empty. It was early, still chill, and the pale dawn light was just seeping into the cottage. He set the boots aside and instead pulled on a thick woollen shirt and trousers. As he slipped silently outside the charms tattooed on the soles of his feet glowed warm on his skin. The rising sun was hidden behind a low bank of mist, while the eastern horizon, over the lake, was as dark as a thundercloud.

  Isak was standing by a crooked willow fifty yards away. Though old, the tree jutting out over the water was no higher than the white-eye. The puppy Hulf nosed through the hanging fronds at Isak’s feet, a broken stub of wood jammed in his mouth like a cigar. When he saw Mihn, Hulf gave a snort and scampered over, his tail wagging furiously. The bark had been stripped off his little branch by his increasingly powerful jaws. He dropped it at Mihn’s feet.

  ‘Isak, could you not sleep?’

  Isak watched the insects skittering over the near-still lake surface for a while, making no sign that he had heard Mihn.

  At last, ‘I once loved sleep,’ he said wearily, ‘and now it stalks me.’

  From the trees came the warbling song of dozens of birds, all saluting the dawn. Mihn looked around to see a robin sitting on the topmost branch of the willow, watching Isak, its head cocked as though trying to puzzle out what he was and where he came from. Like all the robins he’d seen in Llehden, this one had a green cap, as bright as its red breast — something he’d never seen elsewhere on his wanderings.

  ‘Do you want me to leave?’

  Isak shook his head. ‘You’re as much a part of it as they are,’ he said, looking back at the insects briefly.

  ‘A part of what? The Land?’

  ‘The patterns I see all around me. The threads that bind you to the tapestry.’

  Mihn frowned. Isak’s maudlin thoughts were often followed by listlessness and a deep gloom and he’d hoped today to be able to get the damaged white-eye up and working; exercising those still-powerful muscles and helping him continue his journey back to the man he’d once been.

  ‘Come back to the cottage,’ he urged, ‘I’ll make some tea — you must be cold out here.’

  Isak was wearing only a thin robe, tied at the waist with a braided belt Xeliath had once worn. The scars on his throat and chest were plain to see, duller now that the day they had returned from Ghenna but no less terrible.

  ‘It’s strange,’ Isak said, looking Mihn properly in the eye for the first time that day. ‘I don’t feel part of that pattern. We cut the threads that bound me. We had to — there was no other way.’

  ‘I know,’ Mihn said soothingly, seeing Isak’s face tightening with anxiety. The witch of Llehden had cut many memories from his mind, leaving great holes there. Some things Isak remembered perfectly, but he sensed the frayed edges of his memory. ‘We freed you. It was hard, but we freed you.’

  ‘We cut too many,’ Isak said with an abrupt, strangled cough of laughter. ‘Ham-fisted wagon-brat, that’s what she used to call me.’

  ‘Tila? Aye, and Carel too.’

  ‘Carel?’

  Mihn shook his head hurriedly. ‘Just someone you once knew,’ he said, a dagger of guilt driving deep into his heart. Merciful Gods, he cannot remember Carel? How do I ever forgive myself for taking that memory from him?

  He had to cough and clear his throat before he could speak again. ‘Tell me how you know we cut too many.’

  ‘I’m not part of the tapestry, not any more. A few threads still hold me to life, but I died, didn’t I?’

  ‘You did.’ For a moment Mihn felt the weight of the Land upon his shoulders, but he shook off the mood. He didn’t know what price he would have to pay for the audacity of his actions, but whatever it was, it could not be worse than what Isak had endured. ‘You died, and we brought you back. We had to.’

  ‘To free me of the ties that bind,’ Isak intoned, ‘and that bastard Lesarl,’ he added. ‘Never liked him.’

  Mihn forced a smile at the glimpse of the old Isak; he didn’t see th
em often, but they were coming more frequently now. The witch had been right to give Hulf to Isak. They were inseparable now and the dog, growing stronger every day — and starting to show the fierce spirit yet to reawaken in Isak — was tirelessly playful. Hulf was forcing Isak to remember his own love of silliness, running along the lakeshore with happy abandon, leaping over whatever was in his way, or stealing Isak’s shoes in the hope of being chased. It had taken Isak a while to keep up, but just as the growing dog was developing a wilful, exuberant personality, Isak was unearthing his own, buried deep, but not entirely cut away by their drastic measures.

  ‘Can you see the pattern?’ Mihn asked cautiously. ‘Do you understand it now?’