Stars and a Wind- The Complete Trilogy

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Stars and a Wind- The Complete Trilogy Page 66

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil


  The wolfman followed Thoddun from the chamber and the furs swirled back into place.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Thoddun was wishing he had not ordered his dungeons dug quite so deep or made quite so uncomfortable. He was alone and the cell had space enough for only one man lounging back against the ice, unable to lay full out, nor with the height to stand. There was nothing at all within, neither bedding nor light, and the doorway was low and narrow with a crack of misfitting draught around its wooden frame.

  Immediately Thoddun made fire. There was nothing to use for fuel so he ripped a strip of wool from the cuff of his shirt, crumpled it between his hands and blew. The little flames sparked and he lay the small fire on the iced ground beside him and blew again, making it blaze. The sheen began to drip from the walls behind, a hurried slither of watery ooze. He quickly raised his hands, cupping them over the heat, creating the symbolic barrier which would keep it from melting the ice. Transanima fires could warm without danger, yet one small spark could become fierce enough to destroy a hall. It was an experienced forger’s choice and Thoddun’s magic was more powerful than most. He was still armed. No one had dared demand his weapons, nor attempted to restrain or shackle him. He was free to Shift, but he did not. He stretched his legs, leaning back against one wall, staring into the growing leap of golden warmth. He began silently to call his people.

  The word of his arrival had spread, each transanima held captive had either sensed his approach, or had received word of it from another. A full explanation of what had happened was returned to him at once, mind to mind. He was told how Skallagrim had been killed, of how the castle had been taken, and of who else had died. He closed his eyes, assimilating and planning. He did not allow himself either distraction, doubt or hope. What he planned, was absolute.

  He was asleep when the boy came. Reluctantly Thoddun opened one eye and smiled, a little bleary. It had been a pleasant dream, with the girl in his arms and his mouth to her breast. Knut sat immediately on the ground, cross-legged at Thoddun’s feet, while the gaoler locked the door again behind him. “How did you make the fire?” demanded Knut. Thoddun roused himself. For the first time that he could remember, he felt stiff and sore. In spite of the little flames, the endless ice beneath froze his bones. He wondered if he was getting old.

  “One day I’ll teach you,” he answered, stretching.

  “There won’t be a one day,” said Knut. “You’ll be dead. Why did you give up so easily? You were armed. Is it cowardice? You could have killed my father, and taken over. Why did you come back, just to sit in prison? And how can you see pictures in people’s minds? I hear thoughts, but I can’t see pictures. And why did the girl tell you about me anyway? She didn’t even like me. And I don’t like her. My father spent all his time with her. He never used to like girls until she came along. And how do you know I’m an active transanima, if I can’t Shift yet? And how do you know I’m a double or a threesome or whatever you said?”

  Thoddun slumped back a little lower against the wall, and closed his eyes again. “Children are so inordinately exhausting,” he murmured. “Do you have your father’s permission to see me?”

  “He isn’t my father,” said Knut.

  “But he stands in authority over you,” said Thoddun, “and would punish you if he knew you were here.”

  Knut shook his head. “He’s always punishing me. I don’t care. I have to know things. I’ve never seen anyone actually make the Change. Even the wolves we came with kept to themselves because of the men. Show me.”

  “Certainly not,” Thoddun said. “I’m no juggler at a Yuletide feasting. I don’t give exhibitions. And none of my channels would even fit into a cell of these dimensions. There will be a one day, and when it comes, I shall demonstrate a few matters, and teach you others.”

  Knut glared at him. “My father confuses me,” he said. “Why he does things, and what he chooses. You’re worse. You don’t make sense.”

  “Sense,” smiled Thoddun, “is an over-rated and misunderstood condition. I can explain your father to you. I will not explain myself.”

  Thoddun watched the boy, who sat straight backed and nervous, staring back. “Alright,” said Knut at last. “At least answer some of my questions. If I can’t Change until I’m older anyway, why does it hurt so much when I can’t? Pain doesn’t matter, not my father’s beatings, or the fighting practise, or falling out of trees. Things like that don’t bother me. So why does the bear inside hurt so very much?”

  Thoddun smiled. “You have the bear, then? Not the wolf? And the eagle too, I think. Do you long to fly?” The boy nodded earnestly. “They yearn to be born,” Thoddun answered. “I can teach you to nurture them. It will be several years before your first Shift, but there’s a great deal can be done before that – you should have been directed from your earliest dreams.” Thoddun paused and frowned, “But not now, I think. I have other things to do.”

  The boy leaned forwards, clenching his fists. “Please. I’ve waited so long – hoping, dreaming. Thinking everything was dead inside. Wondering how it worked. Won’t you help? If I come back soon – and bring food perhaps. I’ll bring you whatever you want. I can see in your mind – you haven’t eaten for days. You wouldn’t stop to hunt on the way here – yes, you travelled as the bear. That’s – that’s so exciting. Please, at least tell me something.”

  “Tell me first,” said Thoddun suddenly. “Who was your mother?”

  “Oh.” The boy sat back, chewing his lip. “No one. A slave. She was – human.”

  “When did she die?” Thoddun asked.

  The boy blinked. He was not yet accustomed to having his thoughts read. “Two years ago. That was just after Lord Grimr found me and recognised what I was. He adopted me. And she said, and then he said – well – that my mother, that she’d known him. Grimr probably is my father.”

  “I see.” Thoddun turned away, listening abruptly to something else. Then he said, “I’m going to do something you’ll find most uncomfortable. I apologise, but it is essential. I’ll keep my mind open to you, so you’ll know what I do, and something of why I do it. But the gaolers are wild ones, and they can read my mind too, if it’s open.”

  Before he had finished speaking he was standing, head bent, and had scooped the boy up before him. He thrust one forearm hard across the child’s throat, his other hand gripping both the boy’s wrists together, wrenched up behind. Knut’s feet momentarily left the ground. He gulped and choked, his exclamation of fury silenced. There was no sound as the gaoler unlocked the door.

  The wolfman was careful. His captive was a Fourfold and armed. The hand to the key was cautious. The lock squeaked. Thoddun swung his small captive and the boy’s knees slammed into the opening door, smashing it wide against the guard’s body. The guard doubled over, gagging. Thoddun dropped Knut who tumbled to the ice. Thoddun thrust his knife blade into the gaoler’s belly, forced up beneath his ribs. The wild one toppled to his knees and slumped to his face. Thoddun stepped over the twitching body, and looked back to the boy.

  Knut limped up onto one foot. Thoddun said, “With me? Or back to him?”

  The boy rubbed his knees, hanging his head. “Him. I have to. Is that stupid?”

  Thoddun smiled. “Indubitably. But I’ve no time to argue.”

  The fire leapt. From its little pale bed on the ice, the transanima flames now burst huge and many tongued, licking around the open door frame, crackling along the wood. The door took it and burned. Released from its magical barrier, the fire became true heat and the ice cell began to melt. Liquid flooded from walls and ceiling, sliding into streaming puddles.

  The wolfman gurgled blood. Thoddun ignored the boy, bent over the dying gaoler and wrenched the swing of chained keys from his belt. He kicked the body aside and marched the first corridor to the other dungeons; rows of holes dug from the permafrost. The prisoners knew, and were calling. Drawn by irresistible temptation, the boy trotted behind.

  One by one, Thoddun un
locked the cells and shackles freed, the men flocked into the narrow passageways. Before Thoddun had finished releasing his people, the guards came. Thoddun shouted, “Get out beyond the pack ice and wait. Sea creatures into the water, birds fly free, the rest to the boats.” Then he turned to face the guards.

  Ten of the wild ones raced towards him. Five had Shifted, and were the wolves they preferred to be. Thoddun grabbed the boy’s arm and thrust the child bodily behind him. With neither time nor space to Shift, Thoddun fought as man, sword double fisted, knife ready in his belt. The transanima he had released were hurrying away up the corridor behind him, heading for the deep caves and their entrance to the ocean. Three remained. Two, though unarmed, came to stand beside him. He waved them away. Reluctantly they left. Another ran back down towards the cells as yet unopened, kicking at the locked doors.

  Thoddun called the boy, hovering at his elbow, sword in hand. “If you stay to fight beside me, you only hinder me,” he said quickly. “I shall need to protect you instead of fighting them. Get away. If you want to help, take the gaoler’s keys from my belt and give them to Brandr.” The first of the guards was on top of him, wolf teeth to this throat. He killed it quickly. Its body disappeared beneath the feet of the others, blood sticky as boots trampled, bones breaking, belly bursting.

  Thoddun was slowly overpowered. He killed six. The remaining four took him but did not attempt to kill. They had been ordered to take him alive and obedience to Grimr was hard learned. But there had been no orders about wounding. They came at him two at a time, for the passage width allowed no more. The melting corridor merged with the slick viscosity of blood and voided excrement, heaving with men and beasts, screaming and slipping. Thoddun’s boots slid in water, he used the impetus to kill the next man. A wolf leapt from the darkness. His sword went down its throat, slicing from inside. Then the man behind knifed his shoulder. Another wolf jumped, claws to his face. Thoddun killed it too. The last wolf crept under the man’s legs, came up at Thoddun’s knees and bit. Engaged with the two men on top of him, Thoddun had no thrust free for the wolf. It lacerated his leg, aiming higher for the groin. Thoddun kicked and flung it back. He killed one man, the other shoved his sword across Thoddun’s eyes. He saw only blood, and fell. They were immediately on top of him. His knees were sinking into blood, pools across the ice, his own, and others. A sword hilt cracked against his neck. Had it been the blade, he would have been dead. His hands were in someone’s intestines. He shook back his hair, lifted his head and staggered up. The roaring was dulled by the sound of melting ice, but the fire ranged free. Walls turned liquid. Wooden beams crumbled, scarlet ash thick in the air. Of the ten wild ones, four remained. Two were badly wounded but Thoddun was badly wounded himself. The boy scrambled between Thoddun and the last guards. “Don’t hurt him anymore. Take him to my father,” he screamed. “Now.”

  They dragged Thoddun back through the ice tunnels. Blurred and wandering, his focus darkened, unable to control or mask his thoughts, allowing his mind to fade. He was taken to his own bedchamber. Grimr was waiting. They flung Thoddun to the ground at Grimr’s feet. Tumbling to the rugs, Thoddun lay, regaining breath.

  Grimr kicked out, strode across him, and grabbed his son’s arm, hurling the boy across the room. Knut fell close to the water’s cascade. Grimr struck him repeatedly, spitting in anger, the back of his hand across the boy’s face. His ring cut flesh. The boy cringed but made no sound at all. Thoddun was bleeding heavily. He scrambled to his knees and then to his feet. He found himself lame, limped to Grimr and grabbed him from behind, hands around the neck, dragging him back. “Must you now slaughter all of us, little brother?” he said gently. “There’s little enough left of our family.”

  Grimr twisted from Thoddun’s grasp, pushed the child away from him, and rebounded, facing them both. “Fool. You’ve gained nothing.”

  “I’ve released every man of my community,” Thoddun said, wiping the blood from his eyes. “That’s what I came for and all I intended. There’s no one else for you to murder now, except myself.”

  “But now you’re unarmed and wounded. And as you always did, you’ve begun to corrupt my people. My son. Foul, insidious corruption, creeping behind my back, usurping my power, whispering, mind messages, transanima filth. But I’ll cut it from you. I’ll leave you alive, dearest brother, but I’ll kill the things inside. I’ll murder your channels. Then, inert like me, you’ll learn to beg and hide.”

  Thoddun laughed, though it cracked a little. Blood was still running thick from the wolf wound in his leg. His groin, smashed across by steel, throbbed incessantly. His face had been clawed and stung, but his eyes bothered him the most for the lids were cut. He said, “You have no idea how to do that, little brother. If you knew how to kill the channel while the man lives, you’d know how to reverse the process and reignite your wolf. But it can be done. It’s slow. I’ve heard it’s painful. But I know it can be done.”

  Grimr snarled. “You’re lying.”

  Knut crouched back by the edge of the water fall. He hugged his knees and watched and said nothing. He still carried his sword, but had resheathed it. His boots were slippery with Thoddun’s blood. Thoddun limped over to the bed and stretched up his injured leg, then swung himself onto the piled furs and silks, leaving the stains of his own weariness. “Listen to me,” he said softly, “and I shall tell you something.” The boy stared. Grimr unclenched his fists, and stood, waiting. “I will tell you the truth,” Thoddun continued, “and the boy can confirm what I say as true, or at least that I believe it myself. I’ll tell you something of the wolf asleep within, and the channels the boy carries. But first,” and he lay back a little, easing his knee, “your foul wolf guards fought better than I expected. Men, I’d have annihilated. It seems the wildwere fight harder. I need something to eat and to drink. Then I’ll explain.”

  Grimr scowled. “Still so arrogant, dear brother? Giving orders though another holds power?”

  “You seem to forget,” smiled Thoddun, “that this is my castle. It is my bed chamber. It is the place of my own power. You came here intending me injury, hoping for war. You found no defences, and took advantage. You killed and destroyed. But this is not your place.”

  “I hoped you already dead,” Grimr scowled.

  “He thought you were out hunting,” said Knut. “He was waiting for you to come back. He knew you would. You took longer than he expected.”

  Grimr marched to open the door, and called for a guard. He ordered food, water and wine. He came back and sat on the end of the bed, facing Thoddun. He ignored the boy. Thoddun said, “There is usually a community of two thousand transanima here, almost all of them predators. Shifted or unShifted, they are warriors. Had they been here when you arrived, every one of you would have been shredded. No one would have survived. Of all your grand human army, all that would have remained would have been an intaglio of blood. We were ready for war. We expected troops of men and wolves, disgruntled exiles and people from Ogot’s township. When no one came, I made the decision to go south to meet them. My decision was unfortunate, which I could not know. Yours was fortunate, which you could not know. But the balance will alter. It has already begun to swing back.”

  He could hear the steady seep of melt far below and the moving thread of flame. Where the fire hissed and was extinguished by water, it leaped across and caught on the doorways, the beams and struts, and travelled on. The corridors turned to rivulets. What he heard, and the messages he passed to his men, Thoddun kept under the blanket of secrecy within his mind and did not open it to the boy. But he read the boy’s thoughts which were clear, nervous and hopeful. His inner hearing was remarkable for his age, but he did not hear the destruction below. Thoddun said nothing, and took the food and began to eat. It was now four days since he had eaten and he was hungry. He needed strength. The hole in his leg was burning more than any fire, but the shallow cuts across his eyelids had begun to soothe.

  “The gods give luck where they wish,”
said Grimr. “With the gods on my side, big brother, your vaunted powers mean nothing.”

  “But nor do the gods,” said Thoddun. “Have you also been seduced by myth? You’ve lived too long in the world of men. Yet you know who Odin was.”

  He stretched out his mind again, looking for those he’d released from the dungeons. He found them together, fifty perhaps, or more, calm now and waiting. Some of them channelled sea creatures and the dolphins, the beluga and the old narwhal were deep in the waters, already hunting, delighting in the sharp pleasure of freedom. The others had taken the boats. With little space in an oared karv or faering for a bear and no rest for a stag, few had Shifted. They had rowed out into the deeper waters where they sat hungry and waiting. The sea creatures, once they found their strength, would fish for them. The winged creatures had already flown. They would search for the first signs of an advancing army, either friend or enemy. Thoddun called, telling them he was safe. He could not contact his armies, land or sea or sky. They were too far away and his searching discovered only the silence of distance. He continued eating and drank the wine, listened to the fire’s increasing destruction below, and smiled sweetly at his brother.

  Grimr stared at Thoddun in wary suspicion. “You said you can help the boy. Now you say you can help me. Such a knowledgeable, generous creature, and so all powerful. Why is it then, that no one else can help us poor weaklings? Only you, big brother?”

  Thoddun grinned. The deep scratches on his face stung. One cracked open, and bled again. “Exactly so.”

  The boy sighed. Grimr leaned forward, scowling at Thoddun. “Then why have you never helped me before? Why, if you have such charms, such magic, did you not come to find me? You knew exactly where I was and exactly how I mourned my lost channel. But you stayed here, snug and smug, and ignored whatever help you think I need, that you could offer. Such thoughtful caring!”

 

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