A Time of Dread

by John Gwynne

  Faces round the table moved in and out of focus, all of them staring at him.

  An Assembly meeting. Good, I can tell them all.

  ‘Drem, you’re not making any sense,’ Hildith said. ‘We came out to your hold when we got back with the bear, wanted to tell you. But you weren’t there, didn’t look like you’d been there for a while. Where’ve you been?’

  ‘The mine, on Starstone Lake,’ Drem said. The warmth of Ulf’s fire was seeping into him, setting his fingers and toes tingling. Instead of waking him up, making his mind sharper, it was dulling his senses, a fog settling upon him. Someone appeared and thrust a cup of something warm into his hands and he sipped. It was like warm honey, soothing his throat, warming his belly.

  ‘What about the mine?’ Ulf said. ‘Come, have some stew. He put a bowl in front of Drem, gravy and onions, chunks of beef floating in it. The aroma set Drem’s stomach churning. Before he knew what he was doing, he was spooning it into his mouth, blowing on it, gravy in his beard.

  ‘Slow down, lad, you’ll give yourself gut-ache. When was the last time you ate anything?’

  ‘Two days,’ Drem mumbled. ‘Three?’

  ‘I think you need some rest, lad,’ Hildith said, ‘and someone to watch over you.’

  ‘Aye,’ Ulf agreed. ‘You can stay here, if you like. My lot’ll make some room for you.’

  ‘No,’ Drem said, putting the bowl of stew down. ‘Thank you,’ he added, remembering his da’s constant expounding on the benefits of good manners. ‘No, I can’t stay,’ Drem said, ‘though I’m grateful for the offer, and the kindness behind it.’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘I have something important to tell you all.’

  How do I say this, without sounding insane?

  ‘The mine at Starstone Lake. It is not what it seems. The missing people; they are there, have been abducted. They’ve been . . . changed.’

  Gasps and hissed breath. Someone laughed.

  ‘What do you mean, lad?’ Ulf said.

  ‘They’ve been experimented upon. Foul acts of sorcery. Turned into half-men, feral, beast-like.’ He looked Ulf in the eye. ‘And Kadoshim are there.’

  Ulf blinked. Sat back, blinked some more, a frown creasing his face. He shook his head.

  ‘Lad, you’ve lost me.’

  ‘There are Kadoshim and worse up at that mine. Plain enough for you?’

  Ulf smiled gently, shaking his head. He shared a look with Hildith.

  ‘Drem, there’s no Kadoshim up this way. All that trouble’s down south. That’s why we’re all here. Why so many more have come north this year.’

  ‘They’re here,’ Drem said, insistent. ‘And they’re killing your townsfolk. Or making them into something new. Into killers themselves.’ He looked into Ulf’s eyes, saw only worry and sympathy mingled. Not even an ounce of belief of fear. Hildith stared at him, a frown creasing her face. Others whispered to one another.

  ‘I could take a ride out there, if that’d make you feel any better,’ Ulf said.

  ‘Only if you take every man that can hold a spear with you,’ Drem said.

  ‘Don’t think that’s going to happen, Drem. I’m only offering to ease your mind a bit. And I’d like to have a nose around that mine.’

  Murmurs of agreement at that.

  The memory of the cages in the rock face came back to him, of the boats on the lake, men kneeling to the Kadoshim on the pier. He looked at Ulf, saw that he didn’t believe a word of what Drem was telling him.

  ‘Can we get on with our business?’ a man at the table said, heavily muscled, bald with a grey-braided beard. Drem didn’t recognize him.

  ‘Hold a moment, Ridav,’ Hildith said.

  ‘Aye, the lad’s recently lost his da,’ Ulf said.

  ‘And he has my sympathy,’ Ridav said, ‘but he’s clearly exhausted and delusional. Give him a bed and a jug of mead, and we can get on with our business.’

  ‘I’ll take a few of my boys and ride up to the mine for you, Drem,’ Ulf said, ‘but it won’t be for a few days.’

  Ulf going up to the mine not believing me and unprepared would be like sending him to slaughter.

  Sometimes there’s no getting through to a man. And sometimes the only answer is blood and steel.

  With a sigh Drem stood. ‘My thanks for the stew and drink, Ulf,’ he said.

  ‘Stay, lad,’ Ulf said. ‘You’ll want to see the bear-baiting on the morrow, and a day of rest and some of my Tyna’s cooking, you’ll be feeling better about all this . . .’ He waved a hand. ‘Business.’

  ‘Bear-baiting?’ Drem said.

  ‘Aye. We trapped it in a gorge, gave it a boar’s leg full of enough valerian to kill a horse, chained it and dragged it back.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘There’s a lot of people in this town that lost kin to that bear. Seems like a way to give them some justice. And people always like bear-baiting. Set the hounds on it, bet a few coin. It’ll be a right good day. Just what we all need.’

  ‘There’s not enough hounds in all of the north to bring that white bear down,’ Drem said.

  ‘Might have to bleed it a bit first, or give it some more valerian to slow it down,’ Hildith said. ‘Either way, it’ll be a show and a crowd-pleaser. You should stay. It killed your da.’

  ‘It didn’t kill my da,’ Drem said, his hand instinctively going to the bear claw around his neck. He was surprised to find it was gone, his cloak and shirt torn, the claw and leather cord gone.

  When Sten tried to grab me.

  ‘It did kill your da, lad,’ Ulf said soothingly. ‘You’re just a bit mixed up in the head. You should stay with us a day or two.’

  ‘You’re a kind man, Ulf. My da always liked you,’ Drem said. ‘I hope the Kadoshim don’t kill you.’ He walked out of the hold with Ulf and the rest of the Assembly staring at him openmouthed.

  As he rode out of the gates of Kergard he reined in and stopped. He looked to the south, thought of the message he had sent with Asger. Then he looked north, to his hold, then past it, east, to Starstone Lake and the mine.

  I don’t know what to do. I should run. They will come for me eventually. No matter how well I hid my tracks, they will find them in the end. I could go to Dun Seren, tell them what I have found. They need to know.

  He sucked in a deep breath and looked to the south, a white landscape undulating into the distance. Exhaustion swept over him again, and he knew that he could not outrun any pursuit over fifty leagues of the Desolation.

  And what of my oath. Vengeance for my da, and the fulfilment of his last wish. To take Asroth’s head? How will I accomplish that if I run? The sword must be at the mine, in the hands of the Kadoshim.

  He heard a deep roar, making his stomach lurch, then realized it was not coming from the north, but west, from the meadow in front of him.

  The white bear.

  Without really knowing why, he clicked his tongue and guided his horse down the slope towards the meadow. He passed holds, more like one big hold, a score of homes merging into a village on Kergard’s doorstep, children laughing amidst the snow, throwing snowballs, a big hound barking, jumping and snapping snowballs from the air.

  He rode out onto open meadow, carpeted in white, and saw the cage. It was huge, a gaol of iron bars. Inside it the white bear was motionless, blending with the snow. Only as Drem approached did it move, lifting its big head and regarding him, or maybe his horse. One guard was sitting upon a stool a distance from the cage, a fire burning, pot bubbling over it. Drem knew him – Aed, one of Calder’s sons.

  ‘Not too close,’ Aed said to him as Drem rode up. His horse whinnied, ears back at the scent and sight of the bear, danced on the spot, not happy about going on. Drem dismounted, not even looking at Aed, and walked to the cage.

  The iron bars were as thick as Drem’s arm, and he could see where the bear had vented its fury upon them, scratches and gouges in the metal, though not even the white bear’s strength or bulk could break these bonds.

  A r
umbling growl, deep in the bear’s belly. Drem saw the scars and scabs that crisscrossed the beast’s body, the claw missing from its right paw. He felt a wave of sympathy for it.

  You are caged, going to be torn piece from piece on the morrow, a crowd watching and cheering and laughing as it happens. All for acts that you have not committed.

  ‘Going to be a good show on the morrow,’ Aed said behind him.

  The bear lurched upright, shockingly fast, and then its head was a handspan from the bars, on a level with Drem, staring at him. Aed stumbled back a few paces.

  ‘Careful, Drem,’ Aed said.

  The bear leaned forwards, muzzle pressing against the iron bars, and it took in a great breath, sniffing in Drem’s scent, a snorting breath out, misting in the cold.

  Drem stared into the bear’s eyes, seeing defiance, an animal’s strength and spirit. Unbowed. Indomitable. It would never give in.

  Like my da.

  And confusion, at a world suddenly turned upside down, inside out. He remembered lying flat on his back in the forest, the white bear looking down at him, then fleeing into the undergrowth.

  You spared my life.

  ‘You didn’t do it,’ Drem said sadly, ‘you don’t deserve any of this.’

  And I owe you.

  In a fluid motion Drem drew his short axe from his belt, raised it two-handed and brought it down upon the lock and chain wrapped around the iron-barred gate. An explosion of sparks, links falling away.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Aed shouted.

  The axe rose and fell again, and then the chain fell away, unravelling to the ground in a long, sinuous coil.

  ‘What have you done?’ Aed whispered.

  Drem grabbed the cage door and threw it open.

  ‘I think you should run,’ he said to Aed as he walked calmly back to his horse.

  ‘WARE!’ Aed screamed as the white bear burst from the cage, head high, sniffing the air. It roared, a great, defiant bellow that rattled the iron bars of its cage, looked about, taking in Aed, Drem swinging back into his saddle, and the open spread of meadow that led to woodland and the Bonefells.

  It’s not a mankiller; it proved that in the forest when it left me alive and chose to run.

  Another roar and it shambled away, breaking into a ponderous run, snow spraying as it aimed straight as an arrow for the trees and mountains.

  Your home. Drem thought. And I should do the same.

  With a touch to reins and heels to his horse, he urged his mount to a canter across the white meadow, heading northeast.

  Heading home.

  Exhaustion was heavy upon him when he rode back into his yard, but he knew he could not rest yet.

  Men or worse from the mine will be coming for me, soon enough. Later today, maybe on the morrow. I’ve not the energy or will to run any further, and even if I did, they would catch up with me, out in the Wild where I would be defenceless. They won’t expect me to make a stand, and, besides, this is my home, where I spent the last five years with my da. As good a place to make a stand as any.

  He stabled his horse, let the livestock out, and looked up at the sky. It was well past highsun, edging towards sunset.

  Still time enough.

  And he went to work.

  Later that night he finally collapsed onto a makeshift bed of hemp sacks stuffed with hay. His weapons were still buckled around his waist, sword, axe, his bone-handled seax, more axes and knives in a bundle on the ground, and his spear leaned against the wall by his head. It was dark, the wind whistling around the hold as exhaustion finally claimed Drem.

  I’ve done all I can do. You never know, I might just make it through this. Depends how many are tracking me.

  The last thing he remembered before he fell into the black well of sleep was the sound of a goat bleating close to his ear.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  RIV

  Riv gazed in awe at Bleda and a dozen of his honour guard. They were galloping across the weapons-field in an arrowhead formation, leaning low in their saddles, bows drawn, two or three more arrows gripped in the same fist that held their bows. Without any obvious sign that Riv could tell, they loosed their bows together, arrows flying at the straw targets before them; within heartbeats they had drawn and loosed another shaft, then were thundering past their pin-cushioned targets, twisting in their saddles to shoot one last arrow into the back of the straw men.

  Just in case two arrows in the face isn’t enough to put your enemy down.

  Riv whooped her approval as the riders curled around the field, slowing to a canter, and another dozen rode at the straw targets.

  ‘Have to admit, that’s an impressive party trick,’ Jost said beside her.

  ‘Aye. How can Bleda still do that, after five years away from it?’ Riv said.

  ‘It’s like riding a horse,’ a voice said behind her, and she turned to see Jin, sat upon a mount of her own, a curved bow in her hand. ‘Once you learn the skill of it, you never forget.’ She shrugged. ‘It may take a while to come back, like knocking the rust from a blade left untended, but the iron and steel is still beneath.’

  ‘Wise words,’ Jost said.

  ‘Huh,’ Riv grunted. She didn’t much care for Jin, had always found her abrupt, rude. And now that she had an honour guard of a hundred warriors, there was a new level of arrogance in her, the way she spoke, even the way she walked was irritating Riv.

  ‘It’s about discipline, self-control, focus,’ Jin said as she rode past them. She looked down and met Riv’s eyes flatly. ‘Something you’d know very little about.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Riv said, a seam of anger heating in her veins. She felt Jost’s hand upon her arm, heard his voice. Ignored it.

  ‘You know exactly what it means,’ Jin said. ‘I saw your warrior trial. You have no discipline, no control.’ She snorted a laugh. ‘What kind of warrior are you? The answer is: none at all. I doubt you will ever pass your warrior trial, will always be wishing, hoping, dreaming. As you dream of other things.’

  Riv opened her mouth, but only a strangled hiss came out.

  ‘I see the way you look at my betrothed. Bleda is mine. Betrothed to me. We shall rule Arcona together, while you are still polishing warriors’ boots and dreaming of being one.’

  Jin kicked her horse on. Riv snarled, clenching her fists, and started after her. Jost was hanging on to her, pleading for her to calm down, to see sense, though she was dragging him across the grass. But the anger had total control again, was putting a fire in her limbs and, even as she knew she shouldn’t be doing this, should be mastering her emotions, she couldn’t. Part of her didn’t even want to try, there was something bittersweet about the surrender, relinquishing the need to think, instead just doing.

  A great gust of wind, and a Ben-Elim was alighting between Riv and the shrinking backside of Jin and her horse.

  It was Kol, all gleaming mail, golden hair and white teeth.

  ‘Here,’ he said, throwing something through the air at Riv.

  Instinctively she caught it, a practice sword. She looked up and saw Kol coming at her with a weapon raised high, whistling towards her head. Without thinking, she blocked it, rotated her wrist and shoulder, sending it wide, knocking her opponent off balance, and she was swinging her blade at him, all the rage she’d felt a moment ago still there, coursing through her, just focused on something else now. With a savage fury she attacked Kol, chopping, stabbing, lunging, feinting, stabbing again. Her blade connected more times than she missed, hard blows that would leave a tale of bruises, Kol grunting with the pain of them, though he kept grinning the whole time.

  ‘Feels good, doesn’t it?’ he whispered as she lunged in close, seeking to skewer him, but he stepped to one side, their bodies crashing together.

  ‘What does?’ she snarled up at him.

  ‘Letting go,’ he breathed, pushed her with his empty hand and swept his wooden blade at her neck, a blow that would have decapitated her if it were sharp
steel.

  If it touched me.

  Riv ducked, spun away, set her feet.

  Kol followed her, their battle resuming, a blur of blows. He landed a few of his own strikes, though with less power than Riv, just letting her know that he could. She shrugged them off, attacking like a force of nature, swirling around Kol, sweat stinging her eyes.

  Dimly, Riv became aware of a circle forming around them: Ben-Elim, white-feathered wings and mail shirts bright in the winter sun. She ignored them, continued to batter, spin and hack at Kol, surrendering totally to the emotion that was coursing through her, allowing her anger to have free rein, like a stallion galloping freely, and for a while her anger led her and she allowed her body to follow blindly.

  Eventually the red mist began to fade, and she saw an opening against Kol, swung low, her blade catching him in the ankles, and then he was falling, Riv ready to step in and put her blade to his throat, but he did not end up on the ground, instead with a pulse of his wings he was rising, turning in the air, suddenly behind her as she stepped forwards, off balance. His sword blade pressed against her throat, his other hand about her waist, body pressed tight against her back.

  ‘I win,’ he whispered in her ear, so close Riv wasn’t sure if it was the touch of his breath or lips upon her neck. Whichever one it was it made her skin gooseflesh, a shudder of warmth rippling through her body. Then Kol was stepping away, leaving her standing there, breathing heavily, heart thumping in her head like a drum.

  She became aware of the Ben-Elim ringed around her, fifty, sixty of them, maybe more, recognized many of them as those that Kol had taken with him on the mission to Oriens. They all stared at her, their bodies and wings blotting out the rest of the field.

  A figure pushed through them, smaller, dark-haired. Aphra.

  Riv took a step towards her sister, felt dizzy, a sequence of pains shuddering through her body. In her belly, lower, but overwhelming them all a sudden pain stabbing in her back, between her shoulder blades, as if Kol had pierced her with his sword. She grunted, and then she was falling, the ground rushing up to meet her.

  Voices, blurred, as if heard through water.