by Tom Lloyd
CHAPTER 8
Nai looked in the direction from which the winged daemon had come. The awkward little thing was warm, but entirely motionless; it felt odd sitting on his hand. Its wings hung limply over the sides as though it were dead.
Images blossomed in Nai’s mind: dark snapshots of the Land around them and the creatures that walked it. Here and there he saw distortions, uncomfortable blurs of darkness he guessed were daemon-spirits on the border between realms. Further in the distance were pinpricks of light, farmsteads and villages, all hiding behind a haze of enchantments thrown up by witches and minor mages, hastily done and of varying degrees of effectiveness.
Beside him Nai sensed the large presence of Amber. The big Menin didn’t speak; he knew to let Nai finish before questioning him. It wasn’t clear whether Amber fully comprehended his new situation, but Nai saw no reason to press the matter. Amber understood the journey, the simple purpose of travelling, and he appeared content to take refuge in that while his mind recovered. Taking Nai’s orders was easier than remembering what he’d lost, whether or not they were headed towards the man who had nearly broken Amber’s mind.
‘Amber,’ Nai said eventually, ‘the daemon has seen another traveller.’
‘Menin?’
‘I doubt it; it’s a woman, and a strange one at that.’
‘How?’
‘There is some trace of the Gods on her, but a daemon too. But she’s safe from what we’re keen to avoid: her soul is owned already, and nothing out here intends to compete.’
‘Necromancer?’
‘No, Amber, I don’t think so, but you never know your luck,’ Nai said, at last turning to face him.
A thick growth of white-streaked stubble highlighted the biggest of the scars on Amber’s cheek, a sword-cut. His expression was taut, the face of a man anticipating pain. His loss of both of his life’s purpose as well as his name loomed large, always poised to descend on him again.
‘Let’s go and find out,’ Nai said at last.
Alterr was bright, and they were travelling through open pastureland for the main. With the small daemon to guide them the pair moved quickly.
‘She’s near,’ Nai said less than an hour later, pointing to a humped rise studded with boulders. They followed a rabbit run, the closest thing they had seen to a path all day, and on the other side Nai motioned for them to move more cautiously.
Amber instinctively reached for his sword, but Nai grabbed his arm before he could draw it. ‘We’re not here to fight,’ he whispered. ‘You might provoke her into shooting you if she’s got a bow.’
Fifty yards past the rise they smelled smoke on the breeze: a small fire was burning somewhere nearby, though it was currently hidden from view somewhere in the small copses of silver-leaved ash and young oaks that dotted the ground. They could see nothing in the shadows, but anyone who was surviving out here on their own was more than likely aware of their presence already, Nai mused. They moved slowly, carefully, until at last they spotted an orange glow reflecting off the surrounding tree-trunks, though Nai rightly guessed the fireside would be empty.
He motioned for Amber to wait for him and went on ahead. After a dozen more paces a voice called out from the darkness off to his right, ‘That’s far enough. Who are you?’
Nai froze as he turned to face the blank shadows: she’d spoken in Farlan, and something about her voice was familiar. A woman out in the wilds alone, smelling of Gods, most likely indicated a devotee of the Lady, but the daemon’s touch narrowed the field hugely.
‘A traveller, like yourself,’ he ventured.
‘You don’t look much like me.’
‘But maybe you recognise me all the same?’ He explained, ‘I’m a mage, I did a bit of scouting the ground and found you out here, wearing the perfume of Gods and — ah, something else. If you are Farlan and were once a devotee of the Lady, it might be that once we met.’
‘Go on,’ she prompted as he paused.
‘Were you once employed by the Certinse family, or perhaps the Tenash?’ he asked.
A shape appeared from the darkness: a muscular young woman with short hair, wearing a scowl of contempt. ‘Fucking necromancers,’ she said at last, ‘you really are like cockroaches.’ She did have a crossbow to hand, but she pointed the weapon at the ground.
Nai gave a little bow. He was used to the scorn; it came with the territory, and he’d found a little self-directed humour worked far better than his former master’s disdain. ‘We are an adaptive breed, I like to think. Am I right in thinking we’ve met before, then?’
‘Aye, you were Isherin Purn’s servant — the one with the weird feet, right? I remember some about you too. Your name’s Nai?’
‘Indeed. I trust everything you heard was delightful and complimentary?’ Nai said with a grin, easily falling back into his obsequious, I am harmless routine.
‘Cockroach summed it up pretty well actually.’ She looked past him to where Amber was standing. ‘Who’s this one?’
‘My companion’s name is Amber. Might I know your name?’ He wasn’t positive, but he thought perhaps the woman’s grip on her crossbow had tightened at the mention of the Menin major’s name.
‘My name’s Ardela, and as it happens, I’ve heard of both of you. Seems we’re both heading out of Byora at the same time, and probably for the same reason.’
‘The regrettable change in leadership?’
Ardela snorted. ‘Not my reason, but your friend’s Menin so I’m guessing there are people in Byora who’d be keen to kill us both — perhaps all three of us, since your lot are rarely welcome anywhere, necromancer.’
‘Need I point out the circumstances of our first meeting? I don’t think you should get so comfortable up there on your moral high ground.’
For a moment a look of pure, savage anger crossed her face and in that instant Nai imagined the thump of a quarrel hitting his stomach. He actually took a pace back before he caught himself.
‘Don’t push me.’
A brief crackle of energy danced across Nai’s callused knuckles. ‘Good advice for us all,’ he said coldly, before pointedly dismissing the magic at his command.
Ardela stared at him for a long while, then nodded. ‘Aye, maybe. So in the spirit of sharing, how about you tell me why you’re heading west when, if there’s anything left of the Menin armies, they’ll be retreating in the other direction.’
‘First things first,’ Nai said. He moved a little closer and lowered his voice. ‘My companion isn’t quite the man he used to be. I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention whatever happened out west, or any effects of a spell that might have been done.’
Ardela said thoughtfully, ‘Grieving his lord?’
‘It is rather more than that,’ he said, wincing. ‘In that army men are allowed to use an alternative name if theirs might be associated with some family shame, or if it might attract attention because of being named after some distant relation.’
Ardela’s eyes widened. ‘Damn,’ she said eventually, ‘that must have hurt.’ She stared at Amber, who was just far enough away not to be able to hear their words.
‘The Gods themselves reaching into your mind and tearing out your name? Yes, I suspect it might have. In any case, his mind is still fragile. I have worked hard to salvage it, and I would prefer that not to be undone.’ Nai hesitated and glanced at her cross-bow a moment before continuing, ‘In answer to your question, I’m taking him west to King Emin, whom I hope is your ally.’
‘And if he had turned out to be something different?’ Ardela asked. ‘You risked a bolt in the belly there.’
‘If your allegiance had lain elsewhere, your bow-string would have snapped before you could aim it; trust me on that.’ Nai smiled unpleasantly at her. ‘As it is, I’m guessing the delightful Legana told you about us. She’s met us both, and whatever your past — ah, exploits, they still took place within the Farlan sphere. If there were other walkers in the dark involved in events, I’d know about
it — indeed, I’d most likely be on their side.’
Ardela frowned. ‘You’re selling him like a piece of meat? Can’t say I’m surprised, but I don’t see why the king will care enough to buy.’
‘I’ll just have to take my chances on that. Does my story buy us a place at your fire though?’
‘I suppose so. If Ruhen sent someone I know after me it’s not to hunt me down, and they’re a suspicious bunch back in Narkang. I’ll let them figure out any ruse you might come out with and in the meantime just be glad of the extra swords. You wouldn’t believe what I saw out walking last night.’ She sniffed. ‘Well, you might, I suppose.’
‘Indeed I might,’ Nai beamed, ‘and if you’ve got any booze I’ll even tell you why it’s happening, too.’
He beckoned for Amber to join them and the big man trudged forward without comment. Nai watched as Ardela waited for Amber to reach them first, sized up the soldier and then turned her back on him just as he came within arm’s reach. Ardela was particularly muscular for a Farlan woman, but she was still the better part of a foot shorter than the heavily built soldier. For his part Amber didn’t appear to have noticed anything.
Soon they were settled around the small fire, with Nai watching Ardela and Ardela scrutinising Amber, who stared blankly into the flames, snapping out of it only when Nai shoved a chunk of bread into his hands. The big soldier grunted and tore at it with his teeth, not even bothering to pull out his waterskin to soften it, as most people would do.
‘So the heavily armed soldier is a prisoner,’ Ardela commented, ignoring Nai’s wince.
Amber grunted, but that was more confirmation of their circumstances than Nai had seen from the man thus far.
‘You wearing a dead man’s bag round your neck, or some other sort of enchantment to stop him slitting your throat?’
Nai nodded as Amber swallowed down the rest of his bread.
‘Maybe I’m just waiting,’ Amber announced abruptly, his Menin accent making the Farlan words sound thick and heavy. ‘Maybe there’s someone else I want to kill more.’
To Nai’s surprise Ardela agreed. ‘I can see why you would. You won’t find me standing in your way, but others will.’
He turned to face Ardela. ‘I’ve got nothing else,’ he said, and Nai caught a glimpse of kinship on her face.
‘Legana’s got a few things to say on that subject,’ she said. ‘Go and speak to her first. Necromancer, the first watch’s yours.’ She pulled her cloak over her and settled down, her head on her pack, to sleep.
Isak eased his head up off the bed and tried to look around. There was pain, but it felt distant, as though he were feeling someone else’s injuries rather than his own. The room beyond the carved bedposts was dim and blurry. For a while he could make out nothing more than he was alone, then a faint huff of breath from somewhere over the edge of the bed reassured him of Hulf’s presence. A chill settled on his skin, a memory of his dreams that had again been of the lakeside in Llehden.
But now it’s someone else’s dream, he thought, too tired for relief or satisfaction at the notion. I’ve cursed another with my nightmare. He’s the one who wakes up in the cold house beside the lake now, unable to remember who he is.
He tugged away the blankets wrapped tightly across his chest. Even now the fingers of his right hand looked strange, as if they belonged to another man; these awkward, uneven hands weren’t his; they were just what he had to put up with now. There were stubby ridges where his fingernails had been torn out in Ghenna. They were growing back, but who knew if they would eventually hide the runes carved into the skin underneath? Isak hoped the daemon-script and incantations might yet be put to service: he felt their presence constantly, a warm, insidious tug on his soul that was for ever urging it away from the mortal shell he inhabited.
On the far wall a door opened. Isak’s hand quested unbidden across the wide bed and closed around the grip of Eolis. He blinked hard to try and clear his eyes, but he succeeded only in sparking a wave of dizziness and nausea that forced his head back down onto the pillow.
‘Awake at last,’ Mihn said, appearing at his bedside. He placed a hand on Isak’s chest to stop him trying to rise. ‘How is your arm?’
While Isak screwed his face up in thought, Hulf jerked awake and pounced on Mihn, driving him in his enthusiastic greeting. Eventually Mihn managed to work his way around the powerful dog, tugging his sleeve from Hulf’s teeth with a chiding tap on the nose.
The white-eye raised his arm and saw Mihn lean back from Eolis’ lethal edge, then realised he meant his other hand. With Mihn’s help he freed himself from the blanket and as he raised it he realised where the greater part of the pain in his body was coming from.
‘It hurts,’ he mumbled, looking at the clean white bandage that covered his entire forearm, elbow to thumb. In the weak light it blended neatly with the lightning-bleached skin of the rest of his arm.
Mihn smiled. ‘It would. You really are a bloody fool sometimes.’
He took Isak’s hand to support the arm and gently removed the pin holding the bandage tight. After carefully unwrapping it part-way, he inspected the skin of Isak’s wrist, then continued to expose the greater part of the wound. Isak caught a glimpse of red, blistered lines and blackened skin, then the memory rushed back hard enough to make him moan with pain.
‘Cauterising your own wounds, having let a daemon-hound chew on your arm?’ Mihn said with a disbelieving shake of the head. ‘So at least some of the madman I knew remains.’
Hulf, determined not to be left out of proceedings, hopped up onto the bed and clambered across Isak’s legs until he reached the far side. Isak twitched, and watched Hulf’s forward-flopped ears prick up. The dog had patches of pure white on his belly and running down the inside of each leg since the ritual: hidden under the thick fur were the same tattoos the Brotherhood and the Ghosts now sported. The dog was completely unperturbed by the magic bound to his skin; he was adapting already, using his new skills to hunt in the forest, and gleefully stealing from soldiers’s tents.
He moved his foot under the blanket again and Hulf pounced, slamming his front paws together, then wrapping his jaws around the prominent hump that was Isak’s blanket covered toes.
Isak smiled weakly. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’
Now Mihn laughed out loud. ‘It always does, my friend, no matter how many times we tell you to leave the thinking to the rest of us. At least you heal quickly — all you white-eyes do. Daken is demanding to be helped to the nearest whorehouse to check everything still works, and he was as near as dead after the attack.’
‘Couldn’t the whores go to him?’
‘One would think,’ Mihn agreed. ‘Perhaps it is a matter of pride for the man? Or pethaps he just has not thought of that yet.’
Isak focused on Mihn’s face: there was something different about it. Eventually he realised there was a long, shallow cut down the side of Mihn’s head. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen Mihn actually injured, but could not think of a single instance. ‘One got you,’ he said at last, pointing as best he could.
‘The dangers of your company, my Lord.’
‘Don’t remember seeing that ever, you catching more than a bruise.’
‘You have not been present for most of my fights,’ Mihn said. ‘This is far from my first injury.’
‘Less than your fair share, though. They must have been desperate for revenge if one got that close.’
‘You flatter me.’ Mihn said with a smile.
Isak sat in silence for a while, then raised Eolis again. ‘Take it. They’ll come again.’
‘No. You killed your jailer, the one who had my scent and carried my bond.’
‘Please.’ Isak sighed and closed his eyes. ‘I’m so tired — tired of this all. I don’t have the strength to carry Eolis any longer. But you, you’re worthy of it. They’ll not get so close again, not if you were wielding Eolis.’
‘I want that burden even le
ss than you,’ Mihn said gently, pushing Isak’s hand away, ‘and I shall not break my vow again. Whatever claim you have on my soul, you cannot order me to do that. There are others more worthy than me, soldiers who will see it more properly used.’
‘Who? It’s tied to my soul — who else could I trust with it?’
‘Vesna, Lahk — there are many here you can trust, and now there are hundreds who wear my tattoos and are just as bound to you as I am.’
Isak felt sadness wash over him. ‘No, none are as bound as you,’ he said, feeling tears of shame threatening in his eyes. ‘None whose soul I’ll spend again and again.’
‘Enough of that,’ Mihn said firmly. ‘I never wanted to go down in history, but if that is the price of success I will pay it gladly.’
‘You will pay it, Grave Thief,’ Isak muttered, ‘and for that I’m sorry.’
‘Isak, enough! Your share is more than any man or woman should ever have to bear. There are no apologies to make, all right? Now, can you get up? King Emin is leaving soon.’
Isak nodded and sat up on the bed, wincing. ‘Where’s he going?’
‘South; there is one Menin army undefeated on Narkang lands. His intelligence says they have occupied a town and are holding position — they have no plan, but they are showing no interest in surrender, and none of the local forces are strong enough to dislodge ten thousand Menin veterans.’
‘While we go north,’ Isak commented, easing his bare toes onto the rug below his bed. He was in Moorview Castle’s royal suite, a grand bedchamber reserved for the king, but Emin had insisted Isak take the room. There was a second smaller bed for Mihn in the far corner, and an enormous wardrobe covering most of the right-hand wall, but all Isak cared about was the enormous oak bed that looked as if it had been built for a white-eye of his size and weight.
As soon as his feet were on the ground Hulf jumped to the ground and gave each foot a cursory lick before darting towards the door.
‘I’ll dress myself,’ Isak said, watching the dog. ‘Go and let him out before he ruins any more of this rug.’ He pointed to a tasselled corner that was now well chewed.