Nightchild

by James Barclay

  Arlen wasn't a stupid man and mage scouts were just one more level of certainty that the Black Wings would not be back. A smile tugging at the corners of her mouth again as she walked back to the Elm, Ren'erei just wished they had been assassins instead.

  Another thunderstorm was prematurely darkening the sky as Darrick's cavalry and its three prisoners approached Arlen from the northeast. Communion with the Dordovan camp to the south of the town had left Darrick and the reporting mage a little puzzled and, once his scouts had returned with messages of cautious welcome from Earl Arlen, he decided to camp away from his allies of necessity and take his prisoners into the town.

  The General was uneasy. The Ocean Elm, the elven vessel reportedly carrying Erienne, had been sighted sailing up the Arl in the early morning, yet she had not been boarded, nor even contacted by the Dordovan mage delegation. The reasons why were confusing to say the least, and seemed to shelter behind obscure port regulations and protocols. And again, it became clear during the Communion questioning that no one had spoken to the Harbour Master or any of Arlen's administrative officers.

  It was equally clear that the irritated General would have to speak to the Earl himself. The actions of the Dordovans would be questioned later.

  With ten guards in a loose circle around them, Darrick chose to ride with The Raven. He felt sick at the whole ridiculous affair and felt sorry for what he knew he was putting Denser through. The guilt he knew he couldn't fully admit was not helped by the venomous looks the tight-lipped Xeteskian shot him on the half hour ride into the town.

  “So, what's the deal?” asked The Unknown. “Is there some problem with keeping us in the camp?”

  “It's a military decision,” said Darrick stiffly. “I don't want you getting hurt if there's trouble.”

  “When,” grated Denser.

  “Don't make this more difficult than it already is, please, Denser,” said Darrick, half turning in his saddle.

  “Sure, no problem. I'd hate you to be in any way inconvenienced.”

  “Look, I'm not enjoying this either,” said Darrick. “But if it hadn't been me, it would have been somebody else and you'd be in chains.”

  “I'm overcome by your kindness,” spat Denser.

  Darrick turned all the way, left hand resting on the back of his saddle. “Let me make one thing very clear, Denser of Xetesk. I am a soldier of Lystern and honoured to be so. In that capacity, I was ordered to bring about your capture and to deliver you to a secure holding point. This I will do. I don't have to like it, or even agree with it, I just have to do it. Right now, I am breaking every rule in the book regarding the transport of mage prisoners because I respect and trust you. Do not convince me I should act otherwise.”

  He turned back in his saddle, a knot in his stomach. He hated what he said though he was glad his men had heard his words. It was a while before The Unknown spoke again.

  “This secure place. The castle or the jail?”

  Darrick raised his eyebrows. “The jail, I'm afraid. It has a standing mage guard and I can leave some of my own men too.”

  “You really are serious about this, aren't you?” said Ilkar, real disappointment in his voice.

  Darrick didn't look round. He couldn't face the elf. “I'm always serious.”

  With the markets closed but the inns and eateries open, noisy and crowded, Arlen took on a very different aspect at night. Shore leave sailors were intent on sinking as much ale and spirits as they could while whores turned brisk business as alcohol loosened purses, drowned promises to those back home and stoked loins with undeniable lust.

  Trouble was a fact of life but the town guard patrolled in good numbers and serious problems were rare. So it was that Darrick delivered his charges reluctantly to a jailhouse that was so far empty of inebriates but stank eye-wateringly of those from previous nights.

  “Don't let me down,” said Darrick, closing the grilled iron-clad wooden door.

  “Can't think of any place I'd rather be,” muttered Denser.

  “What do you mean?” asked The Unknown, coming to the grille.

  “I mean I know you've done nothing wrong but you have to believe that I'm doing this to keep you alive.”

  “We don't need your help, General,” said The Unknown. “And if we want to get out, we will.”

  “My men have orders to kill you,” said Darrick. “Please don't make them carry those out. You have no weapons, no armour and I have mages tuned to the mana spectrum right outside this door. Stay where you are. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

  “You're making a very grave mistake,” said Denser. “I'm the only one who can save her. They'll kill her. And the blood will be on your hands and I will hunt you down.”

  “If it turns out that way, I won't defend myself,” said Darrick. He turned and walked away, his doubts resurfacing and shored up not just by The Raven but by the apparent ineptitude of the Dordovans. Once he had spoken to the Earl, there would be much to discuss with the Dordovan lead mage, Gorstan.

  The Unknown swung from the grille to the complete contempt of Denser.

  “Plan working well is it? I must say, Unknown, this tactical ploy of yours is something else. Rescue Erienne by getting us locked up. Congratulations. You are responsible for the death of my daughter.” Denser had moved across the ten-foot-square cell as he spoke and now stood half a pace from the big warrior.

  “Denser, I need you to let me think for a while, all right?” The Unknown faced the mage calmly, not wanting to go over the same arguments of the last two days.

  “About what? Clever ways of getting them to shackle us to the walls?” Denser rattled one of the chains that hung at chest height all around the cell.

  The Unknown looked past Denser to Ilkar. The elf had been very quiet since their capture and he knew what the Julatsan was wrestling with. He had always trusted The Unknown to make the right choice but even he had to be struggling to see what being locked in Arlen's jail could possibly do for them. The trouble was, The Unknown didn't know either. He had assumed first that they would remain with the cavalry, under guard in a tent in the camp. Even when they were riding to Arlen, he had been confident they'd be held in the castle and once there, he had no doubt he could persuade the Earl to release them. He was an old friend, after all.

  But this. This was not in the plan. They had no weapons, no armour and no way of disguising magic from the guard outside. No way out. And the worst of it was that he had no answer for Denser. The Raven were caught.

  “I know it looks bad now…” he began because he had to say something.

  “Bad?” Denser grabbed the lapels of The Unknown's jacket. “This place is about to be crawling with Dordovans and my wife has sailed right into the middle of them and she won't even know. They'll have her before she has time to blink and then we can start to count down the number of days my daughter has to live. Gods falling Unknown, we were her only hope. And what did you do? Lead us into bloody prison! Bad. Bugger me, but that's understating our problem more than just a little.”

  The Unknown pushed him gently away. “I'm sorry. I hadn't considered we'd be put here.”

  “So what are we going to do?” asked Denser, the pleading back in his face, his anger gone as soon as it had come.

  The Unknown shook his head. There was no use saying anything but the truth.

  “I don't know.”

  “Fantastic. I'll make myself comfortable, then.”

  “You know, Denser, there's much more to this. You've always thought Dordover would kill her. Now you merely know the method. There's something else. I thought so outside Greythorne. I know so now. You've been rambling on about being the only one who can do something about this mess and now I want to know how. So let's hear it.” The Unknown loomed over Denser.

  The Dark Mage stayed seated, looking up at the big warrior. “Unknown, I don't know what you're talking about.”

  The Unknown leaned in. “Denser, you are an old and dear friend, and you are a mage of supr
eme talent. But this fist can still shatter your bearded jaw more quickly than you can cast. Now, you're hiding something, it's making you do and say stupid things, and I will find out whether you tell me or I divine it from examining your broken teeth.” The Unknown was not smiling.

  Ilkar watched it all from his seat on the opposite side of the stinking cell, wondering how much intent lay behind the threat.

  “Have we really been reduced to this?” he muttered. “Sitting in cells, threatening each other?” No one answered him.

  He could see Denser weighing up the threat. After a long pause, Denser waved The Unknown back a little, reached inside his shirt and pulled out some folded pages.

  “I translated more of the Prophecy in Xetesk,” he said.

  Ilkar stood up. “Just how many—”

  “Six,” replied Denser. He shrugged. “I'm sorry.”

  “And are you going to tell us that your next little secret's nothing important too?”

  Denser shook his head, his expression terribly sad. “No, I'm not. I can save her Ilkar. I can save Lyanna. I can save us all. I really can.”

  Ilkar exchanged glances with The Unknown, knowing they were thinking the same thing. They'd heard these words before he cast Dawnthief. Both of them grinned. Ilkar spoke.

  “But that's great, isn't it?” he said. “I don't understand why you're being so weird about it.”

  “There's a side effect,” said Denser. Ilkar went cold all over. “I will die.”

  General Darrick had ridden back through Arlen with four of his guard, Denser's cold certainty that Dordover would kill Lyanna weighing heavily on him. Arriving at the castle, he had been ushered into a plush fire-lit drawing room and asked to wait, if he cared to. The Earl, he had been told, was at a supper engagement to celebrate the birth of the son of a merchant noble friend and would return before midnight.

  After days in a cold wet saddle or shivering in a tent, Darrick couldn't resist the lure of soup, bread and a warm fire to sit by and, after ensuring his guard were fed, dispatched one with orders for Izack, and settled in.

  Fighting the desire to doze, he reflected that he had fully expected to arrive in Arlen to oversee the provisioning of ships for the voyage back to wherever Erienne had come from in the Ornouth Archipelago. In fact, he'd thought he might even be able to just step aboard and sit with Erienne and help her understand while the elven ship led the Dordovans and Lysternans to the prize they all prayed they could take and control to save Balaia.

  But now it seemed the Dordovans had no urgency at all and he would have to organise the whole lot himself. Hardly auspicious evidence of inter-College cooperation.

  Riding through the gates of Castle Arlen, he had seen the relaxation among the guards, the smiles of those who handled the horses and what verged on informality from the squire who led them into the keep. It was as if they'd won a great victory and had no idea of the scale of forces converging on them, coming closer with every heartbeat.

  Darrick had expected the Earl to be in good spirits when he arrived back from his supper, but instead, Jasto had been cool, though his words were kind enough as he shook the General's hand.

  “General Darrick, what a pleasant surprise.”

  “My Lord Earl.”

  “I've just had a mug of mulled wine delivered. Care to join me?”

  Darrick smiled. “Perhaps a little. All this talk of soup and hot wine, it sounds like winter's upon us.”

  “Perhaps it is,” said Arlen, filling two silver goblets, handing one to Darrick and gesturing him to sit on one of the plush chairs that flanked the fire. “This magic smells bad, so they tell me, and it's making my town cold and wet before its time. It's all about a girl, isn't it?”

  “Yes,” said Darrick, interested to find out how much the Earl knew.

  “Hmm. And it sounds like we've been lucky here so far. Just wind, rain and a little lightning. Spectacular, too.” He mouth twitched up at the corners. “We've had hurricanes, the ground eating a town whole. Even Korina has not gone unscathed; the seas have risen and smashed the docks there. So tell me, what is it you are here to do?”

  “Find the child,” said Darrick. “Bring her to safety where she can be controlled before more damage is done to Balaia.”

  “And is that what all those Dordovans are doing in the south?”

  “Supposedly,” said Darrick. “But they don't seem to have achieved much aside from erecting their tents.”

  “And they've been here over two weeks.” Arlen took a long sip of his wine. “Now, I've left them alone because they have been the souls of politeness whenever they have come here. They have arranged charter of the Calaian Sun, they have eaten and drunk with my people and said nothing about what they're doing. Strange then, their alliance with the Black Wings, who are nothing but mindless thugs I have had to expel. I understood the Colleges to be united in their hatred of these people.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Darrick started, unsure he had heard the Earl correctly.

  “And I'm even more surprised a man of your apparent honour and standing being linked with such an alliance. I thought Lystern above such mire,” continued Arlen.

  “My Lord Earl, I must—”

  Arlen raised a hand. “This is my drawing room and I will speak until I am done. Now I understand you to have in the region of two hundred cavalry to the northwest of my town. Take them home, General Darrick. They aren't needed here. I will not suffer College forces here any longer. The Black Wings are gone, your dubious allies are going to sail to Ornouth to find this child, and all will be put right.” He refilled his goblet.

  Darrick rose, unable to keep seated. He couldn't believe what he had heard of the Dordovans.

  “Earl Arlen, please,” he said, knowing his agitation was showing but not caring. “The Black Wings. You are saying they are working with the Dordovans?”

  It was such a bizarre question, he could barely credit it coming from his lips. Arlen looked at him for a long moment, confusion chasing itself across his face.

  “You didn't know?” He pointed at Darrick. “You didn't know.”

  “No, and I'm afraid I cannot leave your town though I promise no harm will come to your people by the hand of a Lysternan,” said Darrick. “There will be bloodshed and destruction here unless I stop it.”

  “My dear General, you're being overemotional. Ask anyone in the town what happened this morning. I snuffed out the situation. The Black Wings have been expelled, sent away with their tails between their legs. There is no one for you to fight.” He chuckled and shook his head.

  Darrick fought to keep his temper. “My Lord, there is a ship in your harbour. An elven vessel recently arrived.”

  Arlen nodded. “The Ocean Elm. Beautiful, isn't she?”

  “You must give me permission to board her immediately.”

  “Must?” Arlen raised his eyebrows. “General Darrick, I am unused to having such demands made of me in my own drawing room.”

  “Nevertheless, I stand by my request. Do I have your permission?”

  “No, General, you don't.” Arlen rose to his feet. “And until you can convince me it is a necessity for the security of Arlen, I shall continue to refuse.”

  Darrick snapped, leaning across the table, his bulk throwing a shadow across the Earl. “You want evidence of the need for security, then wait and it will come to you. But Erienne Malanvai, mother of the child who is causing all this destruction, is on that ship and she must be made safe. The only way to do that is to let me on board and have that vessel moved offshore immediately.”

  “Step away, General, or I'll have my men take you to the cells I've let you borrow to keep friends of mine under lock and key. You seem so scared of them and perhaps I now know why. Want them kept from Erienne, do you? And what else are you scared of, the Black Wings? You really think they can get to her through me?”

  But Darrick did not step away. Instead he grabbed the Earl by the collars of his expensive silk shirt, ripping it even as h
e dragged the man halfway across the table. “The Raven are in jail because I fear for their lives, as I fear for yours,” he said, his voice rising in volume. “And not from the Black Wings, damn you. Though they are far more dangerous than you seem to realise. You haven't been keeping up with the news from the east.” He shoved the Earl back and the older man grabbed for his chair and sat heavily, his face pale. Darrick found his hands were shaking and it wasn't just with anger. “Xetesk is coming and unless that ship is gone, the Protectors will rip this town apart to get it.”

  Donetsk stumbled from the Bow Sprit ale house in the Salt Quarter and began his meandering walk home. It had been a good night, the atmosphere in the Bow unusually light, with people still talking about the Earl's ejection of the Black Wings that morning.

  He hated that scum and had followed their sorry procession all the way out of Arlen, before returning to the docks to complete a day's work that dragged on until at last he could get to the Bow for the first of many celebratory drinks.

  Now, with midnight approaching, he had been ushered out as the doors closed, pausing only to hug the innkeeper who'd extended his credit another night. In the morning he'd remember the sympathy in his eyes and be irritated as always. For now, though, he needed a walk to help clear his head and bring the memories back to him.

  The bad weather was coming back. He could feel a bite in the wind; beyond the mountains to the north, thunder rumbled and out to the south, way down the Arl, lightning flared across the horizon. But for now, the wind was fresh rather than chill and Donetsk decided to walk along the dockside, maybe take in the Ocean Elm at rest before going home to lie alone as he had done every night for the last twelve years. He had heard the whispers in the town, the muttering that magic was bringing the trouble, but he paid it little heed. If that was the case, the Colleges would see them safe. They would know what to do.

  With his footsteps echoing off the warehouse walls in the quiet of the night, he took in the stark shapes of cranes, heard the gentle creak of timber on the water and smiled his brief smile.