The Wolf's Call

by Anthony Ryan

  She tore her arm free, red eyes glaring in accusation. “Did you see him die?!”

  The lie should have been easy, a thing of utter necessity, but it died on his tongue. He had lied enough to her. “He fights,” he said. “And he will do so to the death so that you can live. Don’t rob it of meaning.”

  She turned away, drawing in a ragged breath as she moved to close the lid on her curatives chest, gathering it tight in her arms. Saying nothing else, she left the room. Outside, Vaelin found Ahm Lin, Sehmon and Alum waiting.

  “Stay close,” he told them. “And move fast.”

  He heard the sound of battle change when they had covered half the distance to the shop, the discordant medley of colliding metal becoming hushed for the briefest instant before surging into the roar of thousands of triumphant voices.

  “What’s that?” Sehmon said.

  “They’ve broken through,” Vaelin told him, glancing towards the south. Sherin let out a grating sob as the roar descended into a babble punctuated by shrill screams that told of a slaughter.

  “I told you not to wait,” Vaelin called out to Nortah as they rounded a corner to find his brother and Ellese waiting in the street.

  “And, I’m sure, knew we would do no such thing,” Nortah returned. He led them into the shop, where a large trapdoor lay open in the centre of the floor. “The outlaws, however, had no such qualms. Tsai Lin and the women have just gone through.”

  “Where does it lead?” Sehmon asked, peering into the gloomy opening with a dubious eye.

  “As long as it’s not here, who cares, lackwit?” Ellese said, striding forward to jump into the hole. Vaelin pushed Sherin through next, waiting for the others to follow before taking hold of the chain on the inside of the trapdoor and swinging it shut behind them as he climbed down.

  The stairs below were steep, lit by a single torch in a stanchion on the rough-hewn wall, presumably left behind by Cho-ka. Alum took the torch and led the way down, the party moving as fast as they dared on the damp, narrow steps. The tunnel described a wayward course as it descended, making it impossible to gauge a direction. It finally ended in a broad chamber with a low curved roof. Moonlight reflected from the channel of water running through it to dapple silver onto the roof and walls. The light came from numerous holes in the roof and illuminated a watercourse that stretched away for at least a mile below the ground.

  “My lord!” Tsai Lin’s voice echoed long in the chamber as he called from a boat in the water. He sat at the stern with an oar, the three women huddled in the centre. Another boat was moored close by, complete with two oars.

  “The scum refused to wait,” Tsai Lin said as Vaelin climbed into his boat, taking up the spare oar and positioning himself at the prow. Ahm Lin climbed in behind him whilst the others filled the second boat. They were long, flat-hulled craft with tall sides, designed, Vaelin assumed, for the smuggling trade.

  “We’re alive thanks to that scum,” he reminded Tsai Lin, pushing his oar against the stone bank to send the craft into the middle of the waterway. They set off at a steady paddle, Vaelin glancing behind to ensure the other boat was following. Alum and Nortah had charge of the oars and they made good progress. Vaelin’s gaze returned continually to Sherin’s huddled form in the second boat, head bowed low and slim shoulders hunched in grief.

  “Varij?” Luralyn stared up at Vaelin from the bottom of the boat, her eyes like dark holes in a grey mask. Whatever drug she had been dosed with had apparently faded, but he knew her pains were far from over.

  “Dead,” Vaelin replied, facing forward.

  “He was the thorn,” Luralyn persisted. “Wasn’t he?”

  Vaelin just nodded and worked his oar through the water.

  “Did he say anything?” Luralyn’s voice faltered and it was several seconds before she spoke again. “Did he . . . explain anything?”

  I was set to watch her years ago . . . Her betrayal was necessary. “Nothing that made any sense,” Vaelin replied. “He was quite mad. I’m sorry.”

  They rowed for close to an hour before coming to the end of the tunnel, the mouth of which was partially covered by a curtain of hanging weeds. Vaelin and Tsai Lin slowed the boat as they neared the opening, emerging slowly through the curtain to find themselves confronted by the long silver road of the Great Northern Canal. It stretched away to the left and right, for miles, although the southern course appeared to have no terminus whilst the northern ended in the dark bulk of Keshin-Kho.

  Vaelin reckoned they were at most five miles from the city, but the noise was audible even here; thousands of voices raised in rhythmic chanting to the glory of the Darkblade’s victory. He turned his gaze from it and the charnel house visions it conjured, propelling the boat into the canal with a hard sweep of his oar, then steering a southward course.

  He scanned the passing banks constantly, letting out a small sigh of gratitude when he noticed a mist drifting in from the surrounding fields. Anything that might shield their escape was welcome. His gratification faded, however, when Ahm Lin shuffled closer, whispering, “This is not a natural fog, brother.”

  He gave an urgent nod at Vaelin’s questioning look. Another glance at the mist was enough to convince him. It swirled in thick tendrils, seemingly immune to the course of the prevailing breeze. Vaelin rose, setting his oar aside and raising his hands to sign to the second boat, the old Order gesture warning of enemies close by. He saw Nortah acknowledge the warning with a brief flick of his hand before lifting his bow, Ellese doing the same.

  Vaelin stooped to retrieve the oar, then paused, his gaze snared by a pale vision on the canal bank. Derka tossed his mane in recognition as he trotted through the grass, snorted breath mingling with the fog. A smile played on Vaelin’s lips as he strove to imagine how the stallion had contrived to escape the Keshin-Kho stables, then faded when he saw the saddle on his back; a Stahlhast saddle.

  Thirus rose from the long grass with her bow already drawn, the arrow flying free, trailing vapour as it described a perfect arc towards him. An arm slammed hard against Vaelin’s chest, Ahm Lin’s shout mingling with the curse Thirus screamed in her arrow’s wake, both sounds choking off simultaneously as the shaft struck home.

  Vaelin took in the sight of Thirus falling in a welter of blood, one of Ellese’s arrows speared neatly through her neck, before his gaze slid to Ahm Lin. The mason gave a weary smile, glancing down at the arrowhead protruding from his chest, before his legs gave out and he slipped over the side.

  Vaelin instantly followed him into the water, wrapping an arm around his feebly struggling form and striking out for the bank. The multiple snap of many bows filled the air, accompanied by the hiss of swarming arrows and the hard thud of iron on wood.

  “No!” Vaelin shouted, seeing Ellese poised to follow him into the water, hauling herself up in defiance of the continuing torrent of arrows. She began to launch herself from the boat but Nortah, face hard with reluctance, lunged forward to catch her about the waist.

  “Let go!” she screamed, Vaelin glimpsing her flailing limbs before the fog closed in thick enough to render both boats mere shadows in the gloom.

  Ellese called out several more times, before her cries were muffled, presumably by Nortah’s hand. The arrow storm faded as the pounding of drumming hoof-beats sounded from both banks. Thirus hadn’t been alone.

  Vaelin got a hand to the bank after a brief few moments’ flailing in the water, reaching beyond it to grasp a handful of grass and haul them clear. Dragging Ahm Lin into the long undergrowth, he drew his sword, ears alive to the sounds drifting through the fog. The hoof-beats had faded now into the snorts and scraped earth that told of horses either halted or at a walk. It was impossible to tell how many.

  “The . . . song . . .” Ahm Lin gasped. Vaelin shook his head, lowering his mouth to the mason’s ear.

  “Lie still.”

  Ahm Lin’s
eyes met his, Vaelin seeing the same weary smile on his lips. “The song . . .” he began again, voice a croaking rasp and blood welling over his teeth. “Was clear, brother. From . . . the start . . .”

  “Save your strength,” Vaelin whispered back. “Sherin will heal you . . .”

  “No . . .” Ahm Lin’s smile became a laugh, rich in irony. “The song . . . was clear. Why I sent . . . Shoala away. Why I . . . waited for you. All songs . . . end, brother. The princess . . . knew that . . .”

  He reached for Vaelin’s hand, grasping it with shuddering fingers as he guided it to the arrowhead jutting from his chest, pressing it into the blood welling around the wound.

  “My gift,” Ahm Lin said. “To you.”

  The blood was warm against Vaelin’s skin, but he began to snatch his hand away as if he had been burned.

  “No!” Ahm Lin’s gaze became fierce, his mason’s hand like a vise on Vaelin’s, holding it in place. “You must!” he grated through teeth stained with gore. “To fight him . . . you need a song. If you don’t . . . he wins!”

  The final words emerged in a shout, Vaelin hearing the whinny of alerted horses followed by shouted voices. Stahlhast voices.

  Images tumbled through Vaelin’s mind as he stared into Ahm Lin’s wide, imploring gaze. The assassinated emissaries in the tower. The princess’s intent. The duel with Obvar. The siege. Varij’s hidden truth. Thirus’s arrow. Had he still possessed a song, how much of it would ever have happened?

  Fighting you as you are would be like fighting a child, Kehlbrand had said. The Darkblade had said. And, in that at least, Vaelin knew he hadn’t been lying.

  But still the wrongness of it stopped him, disgusted him. The Volarians had made themselves slaves of the Ally by doing this thing. What would it make of him?

  He heard Ellese’s voice again, a distant, plaintive call drifting through the fog, soon swallowed by the sound of horses once again at a gallop. Excited shouts filled the air as the Stahlhast closed in, hungry for the renown they craved, and there was much to be had in presenting the head of the Thief of Names to their beloved living god.

  “Please, brother . . .” Blood spattered from Ahm Lin’s lips, his eyes growing dull. “Please . . .”

  Hearing steel hiss free from a scabbard, Vaelin lowered his mouth to his friend’s mortal wound, drinking deep.

  Dramatis Personae

  THE NORTHERN REACHES OF THE UNIFIED REALM

  Vaelin Al Sorna—Tower Lord of the Northern Reaches

  Nortah Al Sendahl—former brother of the Sixth Order; Sword of the Realm and hero of the Liberation War; father to Lohren and Artis; brother to Kerran; renowned drunkard

  Kerran Al Verin—merchant and owner of the Honoured Trading House of Al Verin, and Mistress of the Merchants’ Guild of the Northern Reaches; sister to Nortah; aunt to Lohren and Artis

  Erlin—former Gifted immortal; resident of Nehrin’s Point

  Lohren Al Sendahl—daughter to Nortah; brother to Artis; Gifted seer

  Artis Al Sendahl—son to Nortah; brother to Lohren

  Ellese Mustor—adopted daughter and heir to Lady Governess Reva Mustor of Cumbrael

  Orven Al Melna—Lord Commander of the North Guard

  Alum Vi Moreska—hunter to the Moreska Clan; friend to Vaelin

  Sehmon Vek—former outlaw and indentured servant to Alum

  Tallspear—Cumbraelin bowman and adopted member of the Bear People Clan

  Iron Eyes—shaman to the Bear People Clan

  Brother Kehlan—brother of the Fifth Order; healer to the North Tower

  Cara—Gifted resident of Nehrin’s Point; estranged wife to Lorkan

  Lorkan Densah—estranged husband to Cara; former Gifted resident of Nehrin’s Point

  Kohn Shen—ambassador from the Court of the Venerable Kingdom to the Unified Realm

  Gian Nuishin—commander of the Seventh Cohort of the Venerable Host and ambassador to the Unified Realm

  Veiser Mortin—captain of the Sea Wasp, a trading vessel owned by the Honoured Trading House of Al Verin

  THE STAHLHAST

  Kehlbrand Reyerik—Great Lord of the Hast

  Luralyn Reyerik—sister to Kehlbrand and Babukir; Gifted seer of the Divine Blood

  Babukir Reyerik—younger brother to Kehlbrand and Luralyn

  Obvar Nagerik—Stahlhast warrior of great renown; Kehlbrand’s champion and saddle brother; would-be suitor to Luralyn

  Varnko Materk—Skeltir of the Ostra Skeld

  Thirus—warrior of the Ostra Skeld

  Eresa—Gifted former slave and friend to Luralyn

  Varij—Gifted former slave and friend to Luralyn

  Juhkar—Gifted former slave and friend to Luralyn

  Jihla—Gifted former slave and friend to Luralyn

  Kihlen—Gifted former slave and friend to Luralyn

  THE VENERABLE KINGDOM

  Lian Sha—Merchant King of the Venerable Kingdom

  Sho Tsai—captain in the Merchant King’s host; commander of the Red Scouts

  Tsai Lin—apprentice officer in the Red Scouts; son to Sho Tsai

  The Jade Princess—immortal occupant of the High Temple

  Sherin Unsa—former Mistress of Curatives to the Fifth Order of the Faith; healer of great renown known as “The Grace of Heaven”; formerly Vaelin’s lover

  Ahm Lin—stonemason and Gifted wielder of a blood-song; friend to Vaelin and Sherin

  Pao Len—teashop owner and leader of the Crimson Band

  Chien—member of the Crimson Band; daughter to Pao Len

  Crab—boatman and member of the Crimson Band

  Hushan Shi—governor of Keshin-Kho, capital of the Northern Prefecture of the Venerable Kingdom

  Neshim Lhi—deputy governor of the city of Keshin-Kho; later promoted to governor

  Corporal Wei—corporal in the Red Scouts

  Cho-ka—smuggler and member of the Green Viper outlaw band; later corporal in the Skulls Infantry Company

  About the Author

  Anthony Ryan is the author of the Raven's Shadow novels, including Blood Song, Tower Lord, and Queen of Fire, and the Draconis Memoria novels, including The Waking Fire, The Legion of Flame and The Empire of Ashes. He is currently at work on the Raven's Blade novels.

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