Revenant

by Fergal F. Nally

  Tig looked up. “Rain Pools? You’re going to the Rain Pools?”

  “What of it?” Sabine said, an edge to her voice.

  Tig looked at her uncertainly. “Fingers was from near there, he used to tell us stories of the Rain Pools and the Clovenstone.”

  “Clovenstone?” Raven repeated.

  Tig looked at her. Raven’s green eyes pierced him to the core. He looked away. “The Clovenstone is the doorway to a great cave. There are spirits down there, the walls speak, the air dances with lights. At least that’s what Fingers said.”

  Jack looked at Raven and Sabine. He nodded and scratched his stubble. “We’re on the right track then. Closer to finding some real answers.”

  They stared at him blankly across the fire.

  ~

  They rose at first light, their muscles stiff and painful despite the fire. They were hungry, the last of their food gone. Sabine was low on arrows, a sombre mood hung over them. They trudged up the defile and emerged on a bright, blustery ridge. The rain had stopped, the sun came in bursts between the clouds.

  “So they’ve mined the northern district. They’re going to sacrifice all those people just to wipe out some of the undead. How could he? How could the king do that? Surely there’s another way?”

  “If he lives, it’ll haunt him. Something like that follows a man to the grave,” Raven replied.

  “Let’s hope we can find something at the Rain Pools to turn the tide against the necromancers,” Sabine said.

  Jack winced, his back was sore from the cave floor. “There are always bigger and better weapons to be had. Every war has its turning point.” He paused and looked round uneasily. “What were those things? Those harpies, you called them?”

  “Harpies? You haven’t got them where you come from?” Sabine fingered her bow. “I was tempted to go down and retrieve my arrows yesterday, but others would’ve been waiting. Harpies are… well, harpies. They fly and sing; their song paralyses you, then they kill you, usually by slashing your neck with their talons. So you have to kill them, before their song enslaves you. That’s harpies.”

  Jack looked horrified. “Nice. So what else do we have to look forwards to out here?”

  Sabine peered ahead at a promontory on the ridge. “Oh… wolves, bears, snakes, spiders, big cats, reapers and humans.”

  Jack held up his hand. “Wait, what was that? Reapers? What are reapers?”

  A pained expression crossed Sabine’s face. “Well they live in the earth and come up from the ground when they hear you coming. You’ve got to know the signs, usually you can see their burrows and mounds, like termite mounds. So you give them a wide berth.”

  “So they’re like what? Worms or something?”

  Sabine squinted her eyes thinking. “No, more like crabs. They move sideways and have pincers. Go for the eyes if you have to, but I’d recommend running.”

  “Right.”

  Raven interjected, “Don’t forget the red kite.”

  Jack raised his eyebrows. “Red kite?”

  “Yes, it’s a butterfly, well… moth, actually kind of both. If it bites you, you’ll drop like stone. It’s only the summer months they come out, usually near marshy areas, places you get swamp fever, but you’d be avoiding those areas anyway wouldn’t you?” Raven said matter-of-factly.

  “Of course.” Jack said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  Sabine made it to the promontory and held her hand up to her forehead shielding her eyes from the sun. They reached her and looked out over the land stretching below.

  “You can see for what, fifty miles?” Jack commented.

  “Yes, and there’s our destination.” Sabine pointed to the south west, several lochs glittered in the distance. “The Rain Pools and Sarenossa beyond.” A thin pall of smoke rose from the town. “Never been to Sarenossa myself, heard it’s quite a busy place. We need to focus on the Rain Pools first. Forcan was clear on that.”

  “We don’t know what to expect when we get there,” Jack said.

  Tig, who was listening intently, piped up. “Sure you do, the walls have dancing lights and voices, the voices will tell us what to do. It’ll be an adventure, like treasure… and pirates. You’re supposed to find the Clovenstone and climb down through it, that’s what Fingers said.”

  Jack scratched his chin and noticed that Tig copied him, rubbing his fingers on his dirty face. Jack tried to imagine the life Tig had led on the streets of New Haven. A strong survival instinct and deft hands; a useful addition to their party. Jack wondered what had happened to Tig’s parents; he was an orphan, his family a street gang, now dispersed. He was homeless, soon to be stateless if the war went against them. Jack concluded the future was overrated.

  Tig looked thoughtful. “Trolls, you forgot trolls.” He looked pleased with himself. “Fingers definitely said there were Trolls in these parts too.”

  “Now you’re just being stupid,” Sabine retorted. “Trolls were driven from the land after the dragon wars hundreds of years ago.”

  Jack had a resigned look on his face and turned back to the ridge. “It’s still early, if we push on we should make the Pools by nightfall.”

  They continued on the ridge for the rest of the morning, the weather was kind, the sun lifted their spirits. Sabine found a route off the ridge and they carefully descended to the plains below. Once again Sabine provided food, she managed to catch two trout in a slow running river. She lay perched on the bank, feeling for fish in the shallows. The fish were hiding in the quiet pools. She stroked them gently before snatching them from the water with her bare hands.

  Their stomachs full, they continued on their way. A song ran through Jack’s head most of the day, he hummed parts of it tunelessly much to everyone’s annoyance.

  “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to sing when you’re on the trail? You’ll upset nature. She has her own song, there’s music everywhere, the sound of the wind and rain, the rustling of the grass and leaves, the splash of jumping fish, the songs of the birds. Why ruin it with your droning? Save it for the tavern,” Sabine reprimanded him.

  Jack thought this an overreaction but kept quiet after that. They were all under stress and had not slept or eaten properly since leaving New Haven. Raven was quiet too, at least Sabine spoke her mind. Raven was different, difficult to read. The return of her eyesight had been miraculous. She was adapting well to her newly restored vision.

  And then there was Tig, a cutpurse no doubt, a scallywag. Could he be trusted? Did he have a hidden agenda? Was he really alone or on some elaborate scam for this Fingers back in New Haven? These thoughts occupied Jack over the afternoon. He kept his wits about him scanning the skies and land for any danger. None came.

  The sun passed overhead, shadows lengthened. Evening approached. “Another hour and we’ll be there,” Sabine announced, the strain of the journey etched across her face.

  The last few miles passed in a blur. They emerged from long grass to find themselves at the edge of a large lake; they had arrived at the Rain Pools. All this time, all this effort, they had made it. Jack felt an anti-climax. They were here, what next? He looked around, mist was rising from the lake and the light was fading.

  “Let’s set up camp and make a fire, the temperature’s going to drop soon,” Sabine announced.

  Raven looked back the way they had come, a worried look on her face. “I think we should make our camp on that island in the lake.” She pointed at a forested island fifty yards out in the lake.

  Sabine started to say something then thought better of it. Jack caught her eye, Sabine was concerned.

  Raven knew something.

  They lost no time and waded into the water and were soon up to their necks. They swam the last stretch and made it to the island just as the sun disappeared over the western horizon. Jack kept an eye on Tig and was surprised to see the boy swam well.

  As they clambered onto the rocky shore a cry as old as the hills echoed out through the night. A howl pierced the air i
n reply, then two more followed from different directions.

  Wolves.

  Raven had known, exhausted though they were, they had made the right decision to camp on the island. Jack shivered, a sharp pain gripped his calf. He swore, dropped to his knees and rubbed the rigid muscles.

  “Cramp?” Sabine asked, her breath frosting the air.

  He nodded, his eyes streaming with pain.

  “We’ll get a fire going. Tig, get cracking with your firestone. It’s going to be a long night.”

  Chapter 33: Crosswind Exile

  Rurik helped Liliana off the gangplank onto the harbour wall.

  She fought back her tears. The thought of exile on the Crosswind Isles had been abstract until now. The island beneath her feet brought home the bitter sense of defeat, this was as far away from home as she had ever been. Thomas seemed even more distant, she refused to believe he was dead.

  Kate and Eveline stepped from the ship, excitement in their eyes. Their journey had taken three days. The weather had been kind, they had a pleasant journey. Liliana looked at the people on the dock who had come to greet them. Islanders, good, hardworking people… but not her people. They were different, shaped by the remoteness, by the sea.

  “Mother, why are the women covered up?” Kate asked, puzzlement in her voice. The women gathered on the harbour wore shawls covering their bodies and hoods hiding their faces. Only their eyes and strands of hair were visible.

  “It’s the custom here, it’s because we are strangers. Once they get to know us they’ll dispense with their hoods.”

  “That’s a funny way to make friends,” Kate stated, her face disappointed.

  “Come on girls, Rurik has booked us lodgings. We’ll return for our things in a little while.”

  They left the crowds on the dock and followed Rurik who forged ahead. He asked directions and soon they stood in front of a small inn. A sign with a picture of a silver fox hung above the entrance. They entered the inn and found it to be clean and warm.

  “Good day to you sir, madam. How can I help?” a cheery voice shouted from behind the bar. “My name’s Martha, I’m the landlady here. The Silver Fox is a small but cozy place for those seeking refuge from the world.”

  Liliana warmed to Martha immediately. “I’m Liliana, these are my daughters, Kate and Eveline. This is Rurik, a dear friend, my husband is on the mainland. He’s joined the fight for New Haven,” her voice failed, she looked away.

  Martha sensed Liliana’s fear and swung into action. “Come now, I’ll show you around. You’re to make yourselves at home, you’ve had a long journey and must be tired. You can rest, freshen up, then have a bite to eat. I’ve got a nice stew on, should be ready in an hour or so.”

  They followed Martha upstairs. Their rooms were small but clean, soon they had washed and settled in. They returned to the ship to help Rurik bring their things to the inn; barely a trunk full of clothes and some oddments they had collected during their stay at Leerma. They had left Elverium with just the clothes on their backs and what little they could carry.

  They had enough coin and being the family of a Jarl they had the respect and goodwill of most people in the western lands, including the Crosswind Isles. Liliana would pay their way even though no payment was expected, she would not take advantage of people’s hospitality, her pride would not let her.

  Rurik would also earn his keep. He would do the same as had done in Leerma and work the docks. It was hard but honest labour and kept money coming in. Liriana would stitch and mend for others, read and write for the local community. There was always need for such work, the sea brought trade, book keeping and taxes. Her girls would go to the local school and help out at the inn until they found their own lodgings.

  At least they were safe. The undead would not be able to cross the sea. She shuddered to think of the fate of those they had left behind, those who had chosen to fight on the walls of Leerma. She understood their wish, it was their home and they would not be driven into the sea. Ameran, the Shield of the Coast would put up a good fight.

  She had been driven into the sea. If it were not for her children she would be at Thomas’s side, fighting the dark tide that swept their land. She had been raised a shield maiden, fierce and proud, proficient in bow and blade. She would have gladly laid down her life for her people, for her Jarl, for Thomas. Her duty now was to her family, to protect her girls and wait for Thomas’s return.

  To keep the faith.

  ~

  Thomas ran and stumbled through the night. He managed to flank the main host of the enemy horde. It started raining and the going underfoot became grim. Cloying mud sucked at his feet on reaching the estuary south of Leerma. He had to find a way across the river, he had come too far south, away from the town’s walls.

  Early light blushed the horizon as he looked over the estuary. The tide was turning, he could see Leerma across the muddy flats, three miles away, so close and yet a gulf away. Everyone knew the sea rushed in here with the tide, many a life had been lost on the estuary.

  Thomas struggled with his dilemma, he could not go back the way he had come, it was cut off by the enemy. He could not cross the estuary in the short time before the tide rose.

  Face it, face it, you’ve made a mistake, you’ve blundered, you fool, he reprimanded himself.

  A thought struck him, Maybe I can help the people of Leerma.

  Thomas looked around, the morning light was still young, everything lay in monochrome. A mournful wind whispered along the sand, the tang of salt and seaweed hung in the air. Far away from within Leerma he heard a dog bark. He registered these details but ignored them. Then he saw what he was looking for.

  Scrub, tinder dry, and plenty of it.

  He knelt down and took out his flint and steel. If he could set the scrub alight along his side of the estuary, it might be seen by the enemy. They might ignore it, then again they might choose to investigate. Even if he could divert a few of their number in his direction it would help those on the walls in their fight against the main force.

  It was a long shot, but he had to try something, anything, to help. Thomas set to lighting his fires, soon he had a fifty yard stretch of flame and smoke reaching into the dawn sky. It would be visible for miles along the coastal plain.

  He turned, looking back along the estuary and saw Leerma in sharp relief, the battle for the town had begun. Men were on the walls, throwing rocks, releasing arrows into the massed ranks of undead. Smoke billowed from the town. Distant cries and horn blasts came to his ears on the wind.

  Blood was flowing, men were dying. He was witnessing Leerma’s end, it brought back memories of Elverium’s fall. Liriana, Kate and Eveline would be within those walls. He turned and redoubled his efforts, setting new fires along the estuary. The sea breeze had whipped up his earlier fire and the flames had spread, burning fiercely.

  For the girls. For the girls. For my girls, Thomas repeated in his head, like a mantra.

  Finally, he collapsed exhausted, half an hour later. He looked across the estuary and was surprised to see an enemy column had broken off from the attack on Leerma. They were marching across the estuary towards him. He estimated their number at two to three hundred.

  He watched fascinated as the column pushed forwards ignoring the thick mud of the estuary. They were coming to investigate his fires, not wanting to be flanked by a surprise enemy. This was madness on his part but, it might just work, he thought.

  Thomas looked out to sea and saw a tidal surge swelling up the estuary. It came in a series of minor waves, followed by a bigger wave. The sea rushed up the estuary, a great wall of water, its speed staggering.

  He looked back to where the enemy was, they had crossed three quarters of the mudflats and were on the final stretch, less than a quarter of a mile away. They carried weapons and burning torches, hell hounds ran around their feet snapping and barking, herding them towards his position.

  The first wave crashed into the column, followed by a thir
d and fourth wave, each stronger than the last. Within seconds the column were gone, swept away.

  Vanished.

  Thomas stood, stunned. A distant cheer went up from Leerma’s walls. He sat down on the bank and stared at the now transformed estuary.

  He had made a difference.

  Chapter 34: Shiel’s Folly

  The end of the world had its own stench.

  The smell was overwhelming. The lavender oil and pitch braziers were burning flat out but with little effect. The undead had come to New Haven and their rotting flesh stank to high heaven.

  Their numbers were staggering.

  Shiel, Mage of Sorrow, stood on the city’s eastern ramparts. The enemy host arrived like the sea breaking on cliffs. So great were their numbers the first to arrive were crushed by those massed behind.

  They came like a plague, their bodies piling up in a rampart of flesh and bone, growing at the foot of the walls. New Haven’s generals ordered the city guard not to kill the enemy as it was hastening the mound of undead building up along the wall.

  The mound grew into a ramp, inching higher and higher. It would take time but eventually the ramp would reach the battlements, then the city would fall. The attack unfolded in silence which made it more horrifying for the men on the walls. There was no din of battle, no screaming, no burning, no rending of rock and mortar, just the slow crush and press of flesh and bone kissing the city walls.

  Shiel marvelled at the necromancers’ power. Not only had they control of a sea of undead, but that ocean was limitless, stretching as far as the horizon. Where had they found so many lost souls? Deep down he knew the answer, they had broken open the vault of time and had access to humanity’s soul stretching back to the beginning. As he looked closer he saw it was true.