Venom

by Bex Hogan

  ‘I’m certain of very little,’ I say when I reach the end of my tale. ‘But what I do know is we’re losing. And at this point I can no longer afford to ignore my heritage or my ability. Not if either brings with it the possibility of winning. Can you understand that?’

  Bronn stops walking and reaches to stroke my cheek. ‘Of course I can. I just don’t know how to protect you against things I know nothing of.’

  I lean up to brush a soft kiss on his lips. ‘You don’t need to protect me. Just be with me.’

  He nods and I see him fighting to put his doubts aside. ‘I can do that.’

  We carry on walking but both of us are quiet now, keeping to our own thoughts. For myself I’m trying not to think about all the problems in our relationship we’re ignoring, how much there is we’re not speaking about. Like the fact that I’m married. Other than Harley referring to Torin as my husband, we’ve skimmed right over that. And the fact that I pushed him away at the feast after my wedding. But the truth is – no matter how hard I try not to think about it, it’s there – and I can feel the barriers coming up between us. We may love each other but some obstacles are just impossible to overcome.

  My wedding day fresh in my mind, I turn my thoughts to the stranger I sent Bronn after. The stranger I was certain was an assassin. The stranger who outsmarted Bronn. Nothing about him makes sense.

  ‘You said I was hard to find,’ I say, and I can see Bronn taken slightly by surprise at the change in conversation. ‘Did you mean that?’

  ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Surprisingly so. Probably wouldn’t have found you if it wasn’t for Talon. He’d find you anywhere.’

  I pull out Raoul’s talisman and hold it up. ‘Raoul gave me this. He said it would shield me from my enemy’s gaze.’

  Bronn frowns. ‘I’m not your enemy.’

  ‘No, but it still might have made things harder. The point is, could the stranger from the wedding have had something like this? It would explain how he managed to disappear from sight.’

  The smallest glimmer of a smile lights up Bronn’s face. I think he’s grateful for the suggestion that there would have to be some sort of magic at work for him to be outwitted. But then the smile fades as he takes the talisman in his hand.

  ‘What?’ I ask, thrown by his sudden change of mood. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Where did he get this?’

  ‘He made it. Why?’

  ‘It’s nightheart wood.’

  ‘So?’ The wood is rare, but it’s no secret the Third Islanders carve it.

  Bronn rarely looks unnerved, but he looks it now. ‘Someone once told me that the roots of the Black Forest trees were still laced with magic. That anything carved from their wood was a talisman. That’s why their carvings are so desirable, so expensive. I never believed it, always thought it was just a story made up by the traders to push up the price. But what if it’s true?’

  ‘Who told you?’

  Bronn isn’t listening. ‘It would mean the Maiden was more than just a figurehead.’

  I understand what he’s saying. ‘Do you think it would explain why she’s impossible to defeat?’

  ‘Maybe. And it would explain why he commissioned her.’

  ‘Adler? He told you this?’

  Bronn nods. ‘I never took Adler as one for believing in magic, so I thought he found the story as ridiculous as me. But what if he knew there was some truth to it?’

  I don’t want to think about the man who raised me in any capacity, but it makes sense. Adler would want every advantage over others, would chance it just in case. Raoul told me how his people wanted to protect the trees – if they’re a fragile link to the magical past, then no wonder. ‘The question is, if the stranger had something like this, where did he get it? Who was helping him?’

  ‘Maybe Raoul isn’t on your side as much as you think.’

  It’s possible, but I’m not convinced. Raoul seemed to care only for Lilah, the child and their safety. It’ll have to be added to the list of mysteries I need to solve.

  We don’t talk much more before we reach the fortress. You wouldn’t know it was there if you didn’t know what to look for, even after being empty for so long, but unfortunately I’ll never be able to forget where the entrance is to this desolate place.

  The merest smear of blood staining the rock face is the only hint of the massacre that occurred inside, and I pause, needing a moment before I revisit the scene of such horrors.

  It takes both of us together to prise the door open, and when we finally manage it a blast of stale, dank air hits us, like a swarm of souls was locked inside waiting to escape. There is no light, and so Bronn sets about scraping a piece of flint against his knife until the sparks catch on a rag, while I wander slowly into the dark tunnel. The sorrow hangs heavy in the air, as if the rock itself mourns the tragedy it witnessed and now offers its cold condolences. I press my hand against the wall and offer mine back. We all saw things we shouldn’t that day and the memory of Sharpe’s empty eye sockets floods back like a nightmare I’ve tried in vain to forget.

  Bronn gently touches my shoulder, a lantern now lit. ‘Which way?’

  I’d forgotten he’s never been here, that he wasn’t part of the atrocity – and I envy him.

  ‘Down here.’

  We pass the great cave, where the twelve standing stones dwell. I’m more than happy to keep walking, but Bronn’s drawn to their splendour.

  Reluctantly I follow him into the space and he walks among them, staring at the dried blood that stains them still.

  ‘Twelve stones. Twelve Isles?’ And he raises an eyebrow.

  I sigh. ‘Yes. Torin and many others believe reuniting East and West is the only way forward.’

  ‘Reuniting them with magic?’

  ‘Possibly.’ I shrug. ‘Who knows? But the Mages did once exist, even you can’t deny that.’

  ‘I always assumed they were power-hungry narcissists, who said whatever the royalty wanted to hear.’

  My laugh rings hollow. ‘Maybe they were.’ I’ve had enough of being in here. I can’t bear to look at the stones any longer. ‘Come on, it’s this way.’

  Part of me had been worried I might not remember how to find the small room hidden down twisting tunnels, but there was no need. It’s as if there’s an invisible thread guiding me towards it – I know exactly where I’m going. I don’t even need Bronn and his lantern. I could close my eyes and still find my way. And despite the sadness here, I start to smile. The books are waiting.

  The wooden door is open. No one ever thought to return and shut it after Adler’s attack and so it’s remained in the exact same position it was as when Sharpe flung it open to fetch Grace and me. For a moment I’m lost in the memory with ghosts, weighted down with their sorrow, but then I walk into the room, and the atmosphere soothes me.

  Bronn holds the lantern up, shines it round the room, and whistles. ‘That’s a lot of books.’

  ‘I know.’ And I smile.

  He doesn’t. ‘How are you expecting us to carry all these?’

  ‘Why do you think I brought you along?’ Now I’ve managed to coax a smile from him and it lights up the room more than the lantern ever could. ‘Don’t worry, I just need to find the most important ones. For now, at least.’

  He rests the lantern on the stone slab and sits beside it. ‘And which ones are they?’

  I run my fingers across the dusty covers. ‘I’m not sure yet.’

  His frustration is palpable, but to his credit he says nothing. He just waits while I breathe in the air and circle my prey. The truth is, I have no idea which ones to take, but I don’t have the luxury of time, so I’m going to have to do my best to remember. Fortunately, as no one’s been in here since I was, most of what I was reading is still spread out over the table.

  After an hour or so of stacking books into different piles, Bronn’s impatience is beginning to irritate me.

  ‘Why don’t you go back up to the great cave?’ I suggest. ‘If yo
u go straight through and follow the tunnels, you’ll find a storeroom. Maybe you could find some sacks or something for us to carry these in?’

  Not one to enjoy sitting idle, Bronn heads off immediately, leaving the lantern with me. Even in the dark, I have every confidence Bronn will find his way. A skilled assassin can always find his way.

  With him gone the atmosphere settles and a stillness returns. I sort the main books I’ve returned for, the ones I’d read in the past and struggled to understand, but there are whole shelves and piles brimming with undiscovered information. I cast my eyes over them all, several times, and with every glance certain ones stand out from the rest. If Bronn were to return and ask me in what way they stood out, I wouldn’t be able to say. But they do. And I know they are the ones I have to take.

  Some are easier to reach than others. When Bronn appears with two large hessian sacks, he finds me balancing on top of a precarious and wobbly pile, stretching to reach a small tome tucked into the gloomiest corner of the room. But it had shone out the brightest to me. It’s the one I feel most excited about.

  ‘Steady,’ he says, rushing to help me, but my fingers have curled round my bounty and I pull it free before leaping to the ground.

  ‘I’m done. Let’s load them up.’

  ‘Which ones?’

  I point to the two piles and Bronn sighs. They are pretty big.

  Slapping him on the back, I take one of the sacks. ‘Come on, you’re a strong lad. It’ll be fine.’

  He mutters something under his breath, but I know he’s not really cross, especially when he places the books into the sack with surprising care. When they’re full, we heave them over our shoulders. I immediately wonder if I’ve been too greedy.

  ‘You’re mad. You know that, right?’ Bronn says to me, groaning slightly under the weight. Ever the gentleman, he’s taken the heavier one.

  ‘Then what does that make you, for helping me?’ My voice has gone slightly high-pitched under the strain.

  ‘A fool.’ His voice is suddenly serious after the light teasing and I’m surprised to see him looking at me in a strange way. Sad and happy all at the same time. ‘There’s nothing you could ask me to do that I wouldn’t.’

  I drop my books and rush to wrap my arms round him, kissing him deeply. ‘Then I’ll try never to ask too much.’

  He nods his thanks, but as we weave our way out of the tunnels, stooped under the weight of our heavy burdens, I can’t shake the look on his face out of my mind.

  Bronn is a warrior. He has been trained to be utterly ruthless, to carry out whatever is asked of him and never to fail. An assassin must not have vulnerabilities and Bronn has always been the very best assassin. But as we escape from the darkness of the mountain back into the open air, Old Tatty’s words ring in my ears. She spoke of sacrifice. Of losing all I hold dear. The fate of the man I love rests in my hands and the mere thought causes an impending sense of doom to tug at my guts.

  Bronn does have one weakness. One that could cost him dearly.

  Me.

  We hurry across the island towards the south coast, where we hope to find a ship. It’s the bandits’ favoured side of the island, as it has the most hidden coves to lurk in. The sacks over our shoulders are heavy, but we push on. Even without Old Tatty’s warnings still reverberating in my head, I know time is not on my side. I’m a wanted woman, hunted by the crown. My husband is a wounded animal caught in a trap. If he dies because I take too long …

  The unbearable thought is interrupted by the sight of smoke rising over a jagged ridge up ahead, close to the coastline. Bronn and I exchange a glance.

  ‘Please tell me there’s not a settlement beyond there,’ I say, fearing I know the answer already.

  ‘One of the few non-mining communities on the island,’ he says. ‘Mostly taverns and inns for tradespeople and smugglers.’ Simultaneously we draw our weapons, letting the books fall to the ground. I hastily wedge them in a cleft in the rock, hoping they’ll still be there when we can return for them later. Keeping low, we run towards the brow of the hill and then lie flat, ignoring the sharp pain of the rock as we try to assess what’s going on.

  Whatever has happened in the settlement, we’re too late to be of any help. There’s no sign of fighting, or people at all, only a handful of buildings on fire. The worst of the damage is already done, and little more remains than stone carcasses.

  We make our way towards the steps that lead down into the natural crater where the settlement is nestled, our movements silent, not wanting to make a sound in case anyone else is still here. The air is thick with smoke, and I can tell from the smell that it isn’t just wood burning. Charring flesh has its own unmistakable stench.

  The first building we reach seems to have once been an inn, and though it’s not on fire it’s been ransacked. A quick inspection reveals it’s been stripped of everything of worth. And there’s not a soul in sight.

  Bronn splits off to check out the back, while I explore the rooms upstairs, but though I find nothing Bronn shouts my name after only a few moments.

  I run downstairs, bursting through the back door to where he’s standing.

  ‘What? What is it?’ I ask, looking around for danger.

  But Bronn just gestures behind me, and I turn to see what made him call.

  The innkeeper is pinned to the wooden door, his wrists and ankles spread out wide and pierced with spikes of rock, a larger shard impaling him through the middle. His tongue has been cut out and nailed beside him. A warning perhaps? Did the innkeeper try to defend himself? Did his words offend his killer?

  Together we release the body from its grotesque position and rest him on the ground. Bronn covers him with an old blanket and looks up at me as he kneels beside the body. ‘What do you think?’ he asks.

  ‘I’m thinking the bandits have grown bolder,’ I say. ‘They fear no retribution.’

  Bronn doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

  ‘We should check the rest of the settlement.’ I have a feeling this won’t be the only grim discovery we’ll find.

  The absence of bodies as we move about bothers me. There should be more evidence of a fight, people cut down where they made their final stand. A whole settlement doesn’t just disappear. Is it possible they escaped?

  When I find them, my glimmer of hope fades. What brought them all to be inside the stone building at the far end of the crater, I’ll never know. But whether they fled here to hide, or were rounded up like cattle to be slaughtered, what I do know is it’s here they met their grisly end. Charred remains fill the space, families huddled together, parents trying to shield their children from an unstoppable force. The air is foul and I’m breathing in death.

  Bronn comes into the building behind me, and for a moment we just stand in silence. After a while he puts his hand on my shoulder.

  ‘The smoke probably killed them before the flames touched them,’ he says, as if this brings some kind of comfort.

  Covering my mouth and nose with my hand, I step closer to the bodies. The one slumped nearest the door, on top of another person, has a blade protruding from his back. I pull it out and turn to Bronn. ‘Or maybe they were already dead.’

  Bronn frowns. ‘You think they were cut down while running?’

  I shrug. ‘Maybe. Some of them at least. What does it matter how they died? They’re dead and there’s nothing I can do about it.’

  And with a scream of frustration I fling the blade across the room and storm out. Without a backward glance at the settlement, I hurry to retrieve my books, my heart growing as sharp and unyielding as the rock I walk on.

  For so long I have fought for justice, for peace. But right now, I want only one thing. Vengeance. The magic in my blood calls for others’ blood to be spilled. Retribution. Maybe it’s time I listened.

  The cove is tucked into the south-east side of the island, a wretched, desolate place, and it’s home to only one ship today. But one is all we need.

  Three
men sit on deck, basking like terrorturtles in the sun, with a barrel for a makeshift table where they gamble, smoke and drink.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  At the sound of my voice they all spin round, pistols raised, but when they see it’s just me – just a woman – they all relax.

  ‘What do you want?’ It’s the oldest of the men who speaks, and I assume he’s the Captain.

  ‘I’m looking for passage off the island. I’m willing to work for my place.’

  The men exchange glances, and their leader gets to his feet, wobbling slightly with intoxication. ‘What work could you possibly do on a ship?’

  My dress is blinding him to who I am, a fact I was relying on. If he looked beyond, to the scar Cleeve carved on my face, to the steel in my eye, he might suspect more of a trap. ‘You’d be surprised.’

  He sniffs. ‘Don’t take women on board. They’re bad luck.’

  ‘Please,’ I say, giving the perfect impression of a desperate soul. ‘I really need to get away from here.’

  He doesn’t even dignify my plea with an answer.

  I try a different tack. ‘Let me play. If I win, I get to be a part of your crew.’

  This causes them all to fall about laughing, as if such a notion is beyond ludicrous.

  I pull out the small piece of crystal I took from the mine and hold it up for them. ‘And if I lose, you can keep this and you’ll never see me again.’

  The sight of the crystal sobers them up quickly enough. ‘Well now, perhaps we were too hasty,’ the man says, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. ‘What is it, husband problems?’

  ‘Let’s just say, there are certain people I’d rather not see again,’ I answer, walking over to the table.

  ‘I’m Jed,’ the man says, and pulls over a keg for me to sit on. ‘This here’s Arnold, and this is Larry. He’s losing, aren’t you, Larry?’

  Larry is young, and seems particularly glad that I’ve arrived, presumably because he thinks his luck has changed. Poor Larry.

  ‘You ever played knucklebones before?’ Arnold asks with a sceptical gaze, turning a bone over between his finger and thumb.