by Stuart Hill
But this night Medea walked for very human reasons: quite simply, she couldn’t sleep. Scipio Bellorum was driving north, and even though her mother planned to defend the heartland of the Icemark, hoping that the Empire’s armies would break themselves on the rock that was Frostmarris, Medea knew enough of the Imperial plans to know there was a faint chance she’d be drawn out of the capital. Details remained unclear – her Sight had only shown her a broad outline of the Imperial strategy – but she was almost convinced that they’d be effective, with a little help.
As she reached the Great Hall, all the dogs sleeping around the central hearth woke up and slunk off into the shadows. Medea rarely saw anything but the disappearing back of any animal, but tonight she didn’t even notice the dogs. She was facing something of a dilemma: what should she do with the information she had on the Empire’s plans? Of course, helping her family by telling her mother wasn’t an option. She was strongly drawn to actively assist Bellorum and his sons – it would, she thought, be the most interesting course of action.
A distant tangle of voices stopped her dead and she listened as they approached. Laughter and the sounds of scuffling play-fights echoed across the hall. It was all too obviously her idiot twin brothers, Eodred and Cerdic. They’d probably been practising in the training arena with some of the housecarles and werewolves on late watch.
Medea could easily have slipped away, or simply stood in the shadows and watched them pass, but of all her family – apart from Sharley – she reserved her heaviest contempt for the twins. They were stupid, ignorant and loud. She had no intention whatsoever of giving ground before their unthinking male arrogance. She waited silently as they approached on a clamouring wave of giggles and cavernous burps.
The brothers burst into the hall, propelled, it seemed, by a particularly loud fart that made them dissolve into a welter of squeaks and snorts. Leaning weakly against each other they laughed until they could hardly breathe. Finally they regained some control, and wiping their eyes, they continued on their way to bed.
“Eh up, where are all the dogs?” Eodred asked, looking around the dimly lit hall.
“Here, doggies!” Cerdic called raucously into the quiet night. “Come and see your uncles Cerdie and Eddie! I can’t believe this, Ed – they’re usually huddled round the fire as close as they can get without burning their bums. Where could they have got to?”
“The pigsties perhaps, in search of some rather more intellectually stimulating company.” Medea moved out of the shadows, her icy voice cutting the air like a frosted blade.
“Oh, hello, sis,” said Cerdic, suppressing a shudder. “Didn’t see you there.”
“Well, that’s not surprising, is it? She’s about as hard to see as a shadow in the night’s armpit,” said Eodred, and both boys began to giggle again.
“Yeah, that’s a good ’un. Yeah, no, what about this? She’s about as hard to see as a mole on the world’s bum!”
“Yeah, great! Or . . . or . . . she’s about as hard—”
“I think we’ve exhausted that particular route of hilarity,” Medea interrupted. “Don’t you think it’s time you both toddled off to bed before your mummy realises you’re still awake?”
“And what about you?” Cerdic snapped, stung by her sarcasm. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I keep different hours,” she said quietly.
“Yeah, she’s a bat,” said Eodred. “She probably spends half the night flapping around that tower of hers.” Both boys almost began laughing again, but the image seemed too near the truth and they fell silent.
“What I do in the hours of the night is beyond your limited ability to understand,” she said icily. “Now step aside.”
Eodred automatically moved away, glad to see the back of her. But Cerdic was annoyed by her attitude. Both of his sisters seemed to harbour a need to treat him with contempt, and he wasn’t going to stand for it any more. “We may not be as bright as you, but at least people like us!”
“If you mean your bumpkin comrades of the shield wall, then I do believe I can survive without their approval.”
“Well, yes, I do. But not only them. Mum and Dad don’t like you either. None of the family do!”
Medea paused, shocked. It had somehow never occurred to her that her secret hatred for her brothers and sister would be returned. And could it really be true that her father disliked her? Deep, deep down in the fabric of her mind she felt a faint stab of pain.
“You liar!” she snapped at Cerdic, taking him by surprise. He’d scored a point. He’d actually managed to upset the icy cool of his strange sister.
“I’m not lying. Most nights we all sit around the fire telling jokes about you. About how weird you are, how animals avoid you, and how even the werewolves think you smell!”
Eodred frowned. Why was Cerdic saying such things? There were other ways of getting at Medea without telling lies about the family. “Erm, I don’t think—”
“Tell her, Eddie. Tell her about how we all laugh!”
He was trapped now. He didn’t want to go against Cerdic, and he certainly didn’t want to be seen siding with Medea. “Erm . . . yeah. We all laugh about you a bit . . . yeah.”
Medea seemed to blaze in the dark before them. A shaft of moonlight from the vents high in the roof mingled with the glow from the embers of the great central fire to cast an odd flickering miasma over her so that she looked like a will-o’-the-wisp, insubstantial and yet threatening.
“I don’t believe you! No one would dare to laugh at me!”
“Why not? You’re nothing special. Just a weirdo who mumbles in her room and thinks she can make things happen just by thinking about it.”
Suddenly, the shadows seemed to clot and knot about her, forming a bank of darkness that beat and pulsated on the air. Medea whispered in a language the boys didn’t recognise. They took a step back, realising, for once, that they’d gone too far and were about to suffer as a result. But then the shadows drifted away like wisps of smoke, and she smiled.
Eodred and Cerdic breathed a sigh of relief. They’d got away with it.
“Anyway, we can’t stand here gassing with you all night. Some of us are actually doing something to help in this war and we need our sleep.”
Medea said nothing as they carefully stepped around her and walked away. By the time they’d reached the far side of the hall they were teasing and laughing again, the clash with their sister already forgotten. But Medea would remember; in fact, the twins had helped her make up her mind. She, too, would allow herself some fun, and for that to happen she would have to help her mother make some unfortunate decisions.
The only problem was Oskan. If her father even suspected that a witch was manipulating minds, influencing her mother’s allies for her own ends, he’d be after her, and she couldn’t risk being caught. She’d have to tread very warily and feign indifference.
But, stronger than any caution, Medea was determined that Cerdic would suffer for what he’d said.
The time of choosing had arrived. A choice had been made, and in the end it had all been surprisingly easy, even trivial. Medea would follow the path that had fascinated her since childhood, and wander through the deep shadows of the Dark.
* * *
A few moments after Medea glided from the Great Hall, a werewolf soldier hurried across the echoing space, ignoring the barking wolfhounds and Great Danes that had now returned to the fireside. The werewolf arrived at the door to the Royal apartments and, after a hurried word with the guard, burst through.
Inside, Tharaman-Thar and Krisafitsa-Tharina leaped to their feet and roared, challenging all who disturbed their sleep in front of the huge fire. The werewolf cowered for a moment, then stood straight. “A message has come in from the relay, My Lord.”
“Why didn’t you say?” Tharaman boomed irritably. “I might have bitten your head off!”
“I don’t think we actually gave him a chance to say anything, dear,” said Krisafitsa, giving her ma
te’s face a quick wash.
“Who is it? What is it?” A tousle-haired Thirrin had rushed in from her bedchamber, dressed in a white nightgown and incongruously carrying a sword and shield.
“Well, it’s obviously Sergeant Throat-biter,” said Oskan, wandering in after her, yawning and scratching. “What’s the message?”
“The town of Bolby has fallen, My Lord, and a large refugee column is under threat from Bellorum himself. Werewolves and housecarles are fighting a rearguard action, but they’ll soon be overwhelmed.”
“How many in the column?” Thirrin asked.
“At a rough estimate, over a thousand.”
“And how many in the rearguard?”
“After the last action, fifty Wolf-folk and two hundred humans.”
“And they’re holding Bellorum?” Thirrin asked incredulously.
“Yes, Ma’am. There’ve been two major engagements and each time the General withdrew.”
“Could our venerable enemy be losing his touch?” said Tharaman.
Thirrin shot him a glance. “He’d better not be. I want to kill the man at the height of his powers, not as some senile old wreck.”
“You need have no fear of that,” said Oskan quietly. “The Sight shows a man as hard and as cunning as he ever was. Age has merely added experience and refined his ruthlessness.”
“Then how can a scratch force of two hundred and fifty housecarles and werewolves keep him at bay?” Tharaman asked. “They should have been swept aside on first contact. Unless, of course, Bellorum’s force is massively under strength?” He turned questioningly to the werewolf messenger.
“No, My Lord, the Imperial army is of normal size.”
“Then it’s a trap,” said Krisafitsa decisively.
“A trap?” said Thirrin, a puzzled frown on her face.
“Yes. He’s trying to draw you out. He knows exactly how strong Frostmarris is as a fortress. And, unlike last time, all of your allies are ready and waiting for him. If he can trick you into leaving your stronghold to fight him in the open, he has a chance to bring all of his power to bear without the need to overcome ditch and rampart.”
“You could be right,” said Thirrin.
“I’m certain she is,” Tharaman boomed. “Let him rampage all over the South Riding – we’ll just ignore him until he commits himself to the siege of Frostmarris.”
“I’m not sure I can ignore him, Tharaman,” Thirrin answered quietly. “My people are in danger. I can’t allow more than a thousand refugees to die while I stand idly by.”
“But can you knowingly ride into a trap and risk the loss of the Icemark for the sake of a thousand souls, when there are countless thousands more who will suffer because of your action?” Tharaman asked urgently.
“No! Of course she can’t!” a voice boomed into the room, followed by King Grishmak who’d been asleep in a different part of the citadel. “It would be madness to ride out now! You sound like a woman possessed – what could possibly be achieved?”
“The saving of a thousand lives,” Thirrin answered with quiet stubbornness. “And besides, a trap is only effective if the intended victim isn’t aware of it, and I most certainly am! Bellorum’s lost any chance of taking me by surprise. I’ll ride out with both eyes wide open and my sword sharpened and ready for Polypontian blood!”
“Well said, Thirrin, I’m sure. But you don’t even know what he intends to do,” said Grishmak heatedly. “I’m sure he isn’t just planning to meet you in a straight toe-to-toe slugout. He knows better than that by now. He must have something else planned, and while we don’t know what that is, he still has the advantage.”
“I’ll prepare for all possibilities,” said Thirrin lamely.
“Ha! Then you’d better go ready for a war with your worst nightmares. Because that’s the only way you could be prepared enough for him! Who knows what that man’s planning? I can’t even begin to guess, and neither, I’m sure, can you.”
“I’m going, Grishmak, so you might as well get used to the idea!”
“What does Oskan have to say about it?” Krisafitsa’s gentle voice asked.
They all turned to look at the warlock, who’d been quietly watching and listening. “Well, first of all, before you ask, the Sight has shown me nothing, so I can offer no practical advice at all. And secondly, let me pose a question: have any of you ever managed to change Thirrin’s mind once she’s decided to do something?” He listened quietly to the silence. “No, I thought not. The Queen of the Icemark will ride out to defend her people no matter how illogical, no matter how misguided, no matter how dangerous. And there’s nothing that anyone or anything can do to stop her. As she says, ‘you might as well get used to the idea.’”
Thirrin took his hand and squeezed it.
“I do hope that wasn’t a gesture of thanks for my support, Thirrin Lindenshield, because I agree with the rest of them. I think marching off to confront Bellorum is a ridiculous act of misguided chivalry and crass stupidity. But I also know that you’re going to do it anyway, so there’s no point in trying to oppose you. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’m going back to bed where I hope to enter the illogical world of dreams away from the barking insanity of my wife.”
He walked away, leaving a silence behind him as they absorbed everything he’d said. Thirrin would go, with or without them, and if she fell in any battle that Bellorum had planned, then the entire cause was lost. They really had very little choice; marching with her was the only option, whether they agreed with it or not.
Eventually, the silence was filled by Tharaman’s voice. “Well, now that we know where we all stand, we’d better start preparations to march.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Grishmak agreed. “Madness has a certain charm to it, don’t you think? It’s so much simpler; nothing has to be considered, nothing assessed. You just make your decision and do it, no matter what. . .”
Overnight, officers of all species, apart from the Vampires, had been called in and a briefing given. The Hypolitan had at last arrived from their northern province and their Basilea, Iphigenia, her Consort Alexandros, and Thirrin’s uncle Olememnon had been hurried into the meeting almost before their soldiers had been properly billeted in the city.
The fact that Olememnon was present at all showed just how many changes had occurred in Hypolitan society since Iphigenia had become Basilea. No man apart from the Consort would have been allowed at any important meeting in their home province, but this Basilea was far more flexible about such things, judging people on their merits rather than their gender. Thirrin greeted her uncle with delight: not only was she pleased to see him, but the Hypolitan army would be a valuable addition to the force she hoped to send south against Bellorum.
It was eventually agreed that half of the available soldiers and warriors would be led out under the joint command of Thirrin and Tharaman-Thar. King Grishmak would command the city and citadel of Frostmarris, while Crown Princess Cressida would act as Regent in her mother’s absence.
Cressida was livid! Not only had these decisions been made in her absence – she’d simply been told that morning when she’d woken up – but both of her brothers would be going with the rescue force while she had to sit at home and gain “valuable experience of administration”.
Cerdic and Eodred didn’t try very hard to hide their gloating glee from Cressida. Despite her best efforts, things were still strained between her and the twins, and their thinly disguised joy at her disappointment didn’t help matters. She even considered not attending the final meeting before the army set out, but knew her brothers would think they’d scored a point over her if she didn’t. And not only that, but she’d miss her opportunity to voice her objections to a plan she believed to be ill-advised, to say the least. As she approached the conference chamber, still unsure of what to do, she squared her shoulders and strode through the door.
The room was loud with the talk and rumour of three species. Thirrin and Tharaman sat at the head of a
large table, and Cressida took the empty seat next to them. She was genuinely worried about the operation. After analysing the message about the refugee column, she’d immediately spotted that Bellorum was laying a trap, and she had enough of her mother’s spirit to bring up her fears before the meeting had properly started.
“Your Majesty,” she began nervously. “Surely, it is obvious to all that the Empire wants to lure you and the army into an ambush, and yet it seems you are willing to fulfil your role as victim!”
This was rude even by Cressida’s outspoken standards, and Thirrin gritted her teeth before answering with quiet care.
“Thank you, my daughter, for your valuable insight. Though perhaps you should be aware that your elders have already recognised that possibility and taken it into consideration.”
Looking back later, Cressida was never really sure where she found the courage to continue her defiance. Perhaps it was the disappointment of being left out of the first battle of the war between the Royal Army and a force under Bellorum’s command. But whatever the reason, it caused quite a stir amongst the allied Commanders. Once the hubbub of shocked voices had died down she continued: “May I enquire if the considerations have allowed for the fact that Bellorum is a wily and cunning Commander who must know that we would spot the possibility of a trap in the situation? Obviously if this is the case he still expects us to walk into it, albeit with our eyes firmly open, and he still believes he can beat us.”
Thirrin was furious, but managed to control her voice as she answered. “The Crown Princess need have no worries on that score. Though she may believe that her elders are on the threshold of senility, we nonetheless managed to reach exactly the same conclusion, and have decided to mount the rescue mission despite it.”
