Blood Storm: The Second Book of Lharmell

by Rhiannon Hart

  Unable to resist goading her, I finished the letter:

  Oh yes, Rodden Lothskorn will be with me. You remember him? He’s the commoner I almost married.

  Your obedient daughter,

  Zeraphina

  P.S. Still no sign of a son from Lilith. I’ll check again in the morning.

  ‘Feeling okay?’

  I took another swig of blood and nodded. ‘Yes. Just.’ Sweat was running down my temples and I was biting down hard on the insides of my cheeks.

  Rodden and I were on horseback, twenty miles south of the palace. It was the furthest I had been from Lharmell since travelling to Pergamia. The tor-line felt like metal hooks in my skin. The hooks were attached to cables reaching all the way to the tors and they were stretched taut. I imagined it was a similar sensation to being flayed alive.

  ‘Don’t you feel it?’ I asked Rodden. He seemed unaffected, his hands loosely holding the reins as he glanced around at the birdlife in the trees. Griffin was perched on the back of his saddle, and I could sense she found it amusing to be bobbing up and down with the stride of the horse. Leap sat in front of me on the saddle blanket, looking up at me with big worried eyes. I patted his head. ‘I’m okay,’ I muttered.

  ‘Of course,’ Rodden replied, watching the trees. ‘I’m just blocking it out. There,’ he whispered, reaching over his left shoulder for the crossbow he had strapped to his back. ‘Squirrel.’ He looked at me. ‘Your shot. You need the practice.’

  Reluctantly, I reached for my crossbow and notched up a bolt. It hurt even to move, and my hands shook. The grey squirrel was sitting on an oak branch up ahead: an easy shot. Or it should be. As I aimed, sweat ran into my eyes. I wished I could halt my mount but that would defeat the purpose. I had to learn to shoot on the move. I made my shoulders unclench, let out the breath I was holding, and fired. The squirrel plunged from the tree, the bolt through its body.

  Rodden grinned at me. ‘That’s more like it.’

  I dismounted and collected the kill. ‘Halvsies?’ I asked, holding the dead squirrel up by its fluffy tail.

  ‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Rodden swung off his horse and we sat in the shade of a tree. I yanked the arrow out of the small creature. ‘After you,’ I said, passing it to him.

  I cleaned the bolt on some grass as he drank. After a moment he passed the squirrel back to me. I fastened my lips onto the wound and drained it dry. The pain ebbed from my back slightly. Then I cut a hind leg off with my knife and threw it to Griffin and gave the rest of the carcass to Leap.

  Today was a test: how far can Zeraphina get from the tors before she passes out? Not much further, it seemed. I arched my aching back, trying to rid myself of the feeling of being clawed by wild animals.

  ‘You’re doing well, you know,’ Rodden said.

  I snorted. He’d not even broken a sweat and I was about to become the first girl to drown on dry land.

  ‘You’re not fainting, or dead.’

  ‘I could die?’

  ‘Some do, if they’re forced south against their will. Or they go mad. We’re not going directly south on our journey, at least not at first. Tomorrow we’ll take the Drissian Way overland to Jefsgord, the closest Pergamian city to Pol. It’s almost directly west of here. The roads are very well paved and the going is flat, so if we change horses at every city it should take us a week and a half. Then we’ll take a ship to Pol. That will be a little harder as it’s south-west. And if you get seasick it will be worse for you. The trek across the desert is directly west again, but it’s not an easy journey for anyone, especially this time of year. You’d better hope that you acclimatise to heat quickly.’

  I dabbed at the sweat that was trickling down my neck. I sincerely hoped so too.

  ‘But it’s the journey to Amentia that I’m worried about,’ he told me.

  ‘You mean it gets worse?’

  ‘Amentia is south-east of Pol. Quite a bit south.’

  I grimaced.

  ‘It will be painful. And don’t even think about asking me for laudanum.’

  ‘Why not?’ Laudanum was oblivion in a bottle. A few mouthfuls and I wouldn’t even remember my own name.

  ‘Because it’s poison,’ he snapped. ‘It can turn you into the living dead. I won’t see that happen to you.’

  ‘All right, be calm. I’ll manage.’ Shoot. Secretly I’d been counting on a little apothecarial help to get me through the worst part of the journey.

  Rodden must have seen me blanch. ‘You don’t have to do this, you know.’

  There he went again.

  I leaned my head back against the tree trunk and stared at the canopy above. Very slowly, I said, ‘Let’s get one thing clear. I am in this until the end. I want to do this with you. But more than that. I have to do this. I can’t sit in a palace wearing a pretty dress and doing nothing. Not while people are dying. I won’t. It isn’t right.’ I rolled my head to the side and glared at him. ‘Okay?’

  Rodden was twisting my ring on his finger and didn’t reply for a moment. When he spoke his voice was quiet. ‘If you get killed, or worse, it will be my fault.’

  ‘No, it won’t. It’ll just be an unlucky coincidence. I am perfectly capable of dying or getting Turned without your help, thank you very much.’ It was meant to be a joke, but he wasn’t laughing. There was something weighing on his mind. I tested the thread between us, trying to discern his true feelings. He spoke the truth: he was worried about seeing me die. That was no surprise – I didn’t fancy it either. But there was something else. Guilt. There was a whole miserable lake of it lapping at his insides.

  What did Rodden have to feel so guilty about?

  Leap butted his head against Rodden’s arm. He clamped down on the thought-thread between us and the connection was severed. Getting up to mount his horse, he said, ‘Gallop. Ten minutes south, no stopping. Then we’ll head for home.’

  I struggled to my feet, relieved that today’s ordeal was nearly over. Home meant north, towards the palace – but also towards Lharmell. Home indeed.

  Lilith intercepted me at the door to my bedchamber. I was still light-headed, sweaty and anxious for a bath.

  ‘I’ve been worrying about this journey, Fina,’ she said. ‘You aren’t intending to make it alone, are you?’

  I swiped perspiration from my upper lip. ‘Of course not. I’ll be with Rodden.’

  She pursed her lips. ‘Don’t be pert. You know that’s what I mean. The two of you travelling alone together . . . it’s not proper.’ She hesitated a moment before saying, ‘I – I can’t allow it.’

  ‘You sound just like Mother.’

  ‘In her absence I am in charge,’ she blustered.

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since . . . since . . . Oh, come on, Fina. You know she’d refuse to let you go. So I have to refuse too.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘I forbid you to travel alone with that man.’

  I drew myself up to my full height, which was an inch shorter than hers. ‘And how do you propose to stop me?’

  ‘I’ll tell the stewards not to give you horses. I’ll send Rodden on a tour of duty. I’ll make you one of my ladies-in-waiting.’

  Drat. She could do those things, too. ‘All right,’ I growled.

  Lilith looked startled. ‘Really? But your fights with Mother usually go on for hours.’

  ‘I believe you’re thinking of your fights with Mother.’

  Lilith considered this. ‘Oh. Yes. Well, then . . . go to your room.’

  I swept an exaggerated curtsey. ‘Yes, Your Highness.’ And I slammed the door on her nose.

  I fumed. Who did Lilith think she was? How many times had she moaned to me because Renata wouldn’t let her do such-and-such, or Renata expected her to marry so-and-so? And now suddenly she was doing what she thought Renata would
want. Well, I wasn’t just going to lie down and take it. She would be angry, and she would be annoyed, but that couldn’t be helped. I was in the right, after all. There were lives at stake, and why should a notion like propriety stand in my way? Impropriety never killed anyone. Impropriety didn’t drain anyone’s blood.

  I went straight to my writing desk and scribbled a note. Handing it to Griffin, I said, ‘Northern turret, please. No need to wait for a reply.’

  I watched from the balcony as my eagle winged her way to Rodden’s turret room against a brilliant, rose-streaked sky, my note clutched firmly in her beak.

  THREE

  I packed lightly. All my necessities could fit in a small saddlebag: two spare shirts and pairs of trousers, soap, dry rations, bandages and salve, a water skin and a comb. I hesitated over my harming cloak. The long, hooded garments were the garb of those with Lharmellin blood and would be necessary once we were in Lharmell. Harmings favoured them as they disguised their tell-tale black hair and unsettling pale eyes, and the grey puffiness of their skin once they’d been Turned. The eyes of a Turned harming were even icier than our own, and their veins tended to pop out in their necks and on the backs of their hands. Lharmellins, on the other hand, could never pass as humans. They were something else entirely, a strange species that, with a combination of blood and ritual, turn humans into harmings. Harmings and Lharmellins shared many characteristics, like the glowing eyes and craving for blood. But Lharmellins couldn’t walk among us. That’s why they needed harmings to do their bidding. They were constrained to Lharmell by the air temperature, needing the cold to function. I had seen a Lharmellin with its hood thrown back and it was a grisly sight. It had been hairless, its skin grey and mottled by a network of swollen veins. A lipless mouth had revealed dozens of sharp, pointed teeth. But when it sang, a sound of the purest beauty filled the air that could transfix even the most reluctant harming such as me. I shuddered at the memory. I had worked hard on strengthening my mind over the spring since I’d returned from Lharmell. I wouldn’t let myself be overcome like I had been at the last Turning.

  But did we wish to be identifiable to our own kind? The cloak was warm, and the only suitable garment of its kind that I owned. I would take it, but be wary when I wore it.

  I would also take my bows. The crossbow and bolts I would use the most, but nothing would be more soothing than firing a few slick arrows once in a while. Between us, Rodden and I had a few dozen arrows and bolts tipped with yelbar, as well as some regular points for hunting. The yelbar-tipped points we had to be extremely careful with, wearing gloves when handling them as the tiniest nick could make us ill for days. If enough got into our bloodstream we would die – even just from a foot wound. I carried my yelbar points in a metal-reinforced quiver.

  When I was done I sat on my balcony to wait. I wished there were more things to pack, to organise. It would give me something to do instead of just sitting and worrying. What if Lilith had already told the steward not to give Rodden horses? What if there was a guard outside my room right now to prevent me from sneaking away? What if this was a huge mistake and Rodden and I were going to be ambushed by harmings as soon as we stepped beyond the palace gates? We didn’t know how many were out there.

  But that was the whole point: to discover such things as how many harmings had infiltrated Pergamian cities, and what they were doing now that we’d killed their leader. They must have a new one by now. But would they have rallied round that Lharmellin? Would the Turnings be occurring every full moon like they should? And what was the best way for us to sneak into Lharmell again and disrupt the harmings and Lharmellins even more?

  I took a deep breath and gazed out over the city, trying to calm my thoughts. I had an excellent view. The streets were lit by lamps and the western sky was filled with stars. It was also very hot, and I pulled at the neck of the plain shirt I wore. Not even the feeblest puff of wind stirred my hair. This long after sunset the temperature still hadn’t dropped. Leap lay on the cool stone, indolent with heat. If only there was a breeze it wouldn’t be so stifling.

  Distractedly, I tested the atmosphere with my mind, attempting to detect any movement at all. In frustration I grasped at it with clutching thought-fingers, trying to drag a stubborn wind towards me. I felt the air give like a rope being tugged loose, and a soft gust fanned my face. I looked around, surprised. Where had that come from? I cast my mind out again, and pulled. Cool wind lifted my hair from my shoulders. I laughed in delight, and directed a gust down at Leap. He bared his belly to the breeze.

  A dull hammer-blow squashed my good mood as I realised what was happening. Lharmellins could control the weather. They could draw down ice and acid storms that brought misery and death. I remembered reading that some harmings could manage to influence the weather in a small way as well. The reminder was unwelcome: no matter how despicable I found them, how much I clung to my human side, I was still a harming. Un-Turned, but a harming just the same. I stalked inside and flung myself on my bed. I didn’t want any part of it, heat or not.

  I checked the time candle. Hours until midnight. I began pacing the room, too anxious to be still.

  I started seething over Lilith’s words again as I waited at the north-west gate. Creeping away like a common criminal, I thought with a snort. Like I had something to be ashamed of. Renata was hundreds of miles away, and yet her influence seemed to extend all over.

  I heard the clip-clop of hooves on cobbles, and Rodden emerged out of the darkness, leading two horses.

  ‘This is rather dramatic, wouldn’t you say?’ he drawled. ‘Creeping away in the dead of night?’ I saw the flash of his teeth as he grinned in the darkness. He hailed the guards, asking them to open the gates for us.

  ‘I read it in a book once,’ I said sourly. ‘Thought it sounded like fun.’ I mounted my horse, and Leap jumped up to sit on the saddle blanket before me. Griffin was already settled on the horse’s rump, her head nodding.

  My grouchiness began to dissipate and I felt a little thrill as we trotted out the palace gates onto a wide gravel thoroughfare. These were the times I liked best, when it was just the four of us. My skin prickled with excitement.

  We reached the main boulevard and broke into a canter. Few were abroad. We slowed to a walk as we rode through the city, passing patrols and one or two staggering drunks. Darkened townhouses gave way to black paddocks, dotted with farmhouses, and then we were on the open road, flanked by fields. This was the Drissian Way, the highway that connected the four major Pergamian cities, from Xallentaria in the east to Jefsgord in the west. The road was smooth and flat, and during the day it was populated with traders from all over Brivora. Everyone came to Pergamia to sell their wares. It was the richest country on the continent.

  An hour or so before dawn we napped under a copse of pines, the needles springy and fragrant beneath us. Blazing sunshine woke us, and we were back in the saddles, sharing an oatcake and a water skin as our horses walked side by side. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the time we’d spent living and sleeping rough in Lharmell. It had been a terrifying, thrilling time, and a totally alien experience to me then. I felt proud I could slip back into the simple, meagre way of life as if I’d been born to it.

  We alternated trotting and walking, and around early afternoon I felt the pain begin. We’d been travelling parallel to the tors but our distance from them must have begun to lengthen. It wasn’t the clawing pain I had felt the previous day, but a dull throbbing, enough to make me shift uncomfortably in the saddle.

  To distract myself I looked at the countryside. The year was creeping towards high summer and the hay stood tall and golden in the fields, alive with chirping grasshoppers and delicate blue-and-white butterflies. I had a switch of willow leaves in one hand that I waved in front of my face, shooing the flies. Our horses were continually flicking their tails to discourage the insects.

  Rendine was our first stop
and we were to reach the city the day after tomorrow. After the sun had gone down we settled ourselves some distance from the highway, making camp under the spreading branches of a sycamore to avoid the falling dew. I lay on my cloak, with my saddlebags acting as a pillow, and chewed bread and cheese and a few dried figs. Griffin was nodding off in the tree and Leap lay curled beside me. I fed him morsels of cheese which he licked from my fingers with a rasping pink tongue. The horses were tethered nearby, noses in bags of oats.

  It was growing dark and Rodden’s eyes began to glow faintly. That was one of the side-effects of having Lharmellin blood and he seemed to be able to turn it on and off on a whim. Right now he was using the light to clean his crossbow.

  I pictured the world map in my head, using the tor-line as a compass and measure of distance. The thread was quite useful that way: its tautness and angle told me just how far we’d travelled from Xallentaria, and in which direction.

  ‘What will you ask the captain of the guard when we reach Rendine?’

  Rodden didn’t look up. ‘I want the most up-to-date reports on missing persons and dead bodies. He might reveal other things as well, things that are playing on his mind but seem too inconsequential to put in a report. It’s the little things that will help us now. But we should get some sleep. Good night.’ He wrapped his cloak around himself and lay with his back to me.

  I watched the stars appear through the branches of the tree above, enjoying the drowsiness a day in the saddle had caused. It wasn’t long until I fell asleep.

  We reached Rendine in the mid-afternoon two days later. It was located inland on the River Frix and was small and sleepy, more like my home city of Prestoral than Xallentaria. Rodden booked us into a tavern and then we went straight to see the captain of the guard.

  The guardhouse was right in the centre of town. From its front door I could see the market square, a smithy, a millwheel turning on the river. Outside, a knot of soldiers sat on benches.