by A J Dalton
Armour with gold patterns. Why did that seem familiar? ‘What sort of patterns? Could you draw them if you had to?’
‘I’m sorry, but I don’t really remember them. They were … confusing, holy one. Please don’t be angry!’
Azual gave her a perfunctory smile. ‘But what of you, Ingrid? Running this inn alone is a lot to ask of a child. You don’t have anyone to protect you. Perhaps you would prefer to return to Saviours’ Paradise.’
Ingrid set her jaw. ‘There’s never been anyone to protect me from my father anyway, holy one. I all but ran the place even when he was alive. The inn is my home and all I have. Please let me stay!’
‘Now you ask a favour of me, after your sin and blasphemy?’ Azual sighed. ‘Well, I suppose I could Draw you to the Saviours, and then it might be more appropriate. You could become an adult of means and could go into one of the towns on a market day to pick yourself a husband. Should I bestow such a blessing on you, Ingrid?’
‘Oh yes, please, holy one! I will try to be better, honestly I will. I will pray both morning and night from now on, and make sure I always thank the Saviours before eating or drinking.’
‘Very well. Then do as I tell you, Ingrid. First drink this phial of wine. Hold your nose if it helps with the taste. And roll up your sleeve. This won’t hurt.’
Jed hated small spaces, and his bear-like size made most rooms seem small. That was why he was a hunter – so he could be out in the open most of the time. Small spaces made him feel confined and trapped, as if he were in a cage or snare. He’d become panicky and angry if Maria wasn’t there to calm him with her soothing words. When he’d been a younger man, friends had got him drunk and locked him in a wood store on his wedding night. When he’d come to and realised he was shut in, he’d felt like he was suffocating and had become wild to be free. He’d slammed his fists into the walls, not caring that his hands bled and his knuckles broke. He’d charged at them with shoulder and head, putting great gashes in his forehead and making everything reel. Just as an animal caught in a trap will chew a limb off to be free before the hunter can come to break its neck, Jed wrecked every part of his body to destroy the wood store around him. The People of New Sanctuary had laughed and shouted to Maria, ‘Your man is so hot and strong for you that there’ll be no building left standing after tonight!’ ‘He’s so insane with passion that he’ll break the marriage bed!’ ‘Do you want the physick to come call on you in the morning, Maria?’ ‘Maybe you should have that gold ring put through his nose so that bull of yours can be more easily led.’ He remembered little else of the night except the cool hands and whispering voice as she braced and bandaged his injuries.
Now he was not just in a small room, he was also chained. There were locked, heavy shutters on the windows. His chest felt tight and he struggled to breathe. The only thing that kept him in his chair was Maria’s original instruction to remain calm and to wait for her signal before trying to escape. Of course, she’d been right – if he’d tried to fight so many Heroes when they were first taken, he’d be dead by now, albeit with a good number of their corpses lying beside his own. And if he were dead, he’d never see his beloved Maria or dear Jillan again, and never be able to help or protect them as he should.
Maria had always been the smarter one in their marriage, had always known when to fight and when not to, had always known when his temper was about to get them all in a lot of trouble, and had always known just what to say to draw him back from the precipice. She understood the Empire far better than he did: why there were Saints, Heroes and Ministers, why there were silly rules and why people were always trying to confine and trap them. And she knew how to make sure Jed and Jillan got just enough space to save them from self-harm.
It was so hard for Jed to remain calm – especially when there was so little air in the room – but he had to do what Maria told him. Without her, he was nothing. She was a special woman, he knew, one whom most of the men in New Sanctuary had coveted, but she had chosen him. This woman, who had such perception and insight that she seemed almost magical, had chosen him. This woman, who read people and the seasons so well that she seemed to know the future, had chosen to share her life with him. He was the luckiest man who ever lived, or rather, as he sometimes thought, he’d only really begun to live the day Maria had informed him that the two of them would be stepping out together from thereon. He sometimes wondered why she had chosen him, but whenever he asked her she would simply ask him some confusing question like why the sun rose every morning or why leaves fell from the trees in autumn. Then she’d shake her head, smooth his furrowed brow with her palm, kiss his cheek (on tiptoe) and tell him to go chop some wood and think about something more useful.
Their lives in New Sanctuary had been wonderful … until that terrible visit by the Saint, which Jed didn’t like to think about. They’d had several years in which they’d prospered: every arrow Jed loosed while out hunting had seemed to hit a deer or some other prize, and Maria’s leather work, with its unusual designs, became much sought after, even beyond New Sanctuary. Women came to learn her patterns and craft, and everyone in New Sanctuary had treated her with respect. It was then that Maria had become pregnant and Jillan had been born. Jed’s life was complete – he’d never been happier. Yet, by contrast, Maria had become more and more distracted. Others had reassured him that it was nothing unusual in a new mother, but when he’d come home and discovered tear tracks on her face, he’d demanded to know what was wrong. He’d refused to let her put him off.
‘Something terrible is going to happen.’
Jed felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He was not so foolish as to dismiss his wife’s fears out of hand. ‘What will happen, beloved?’ he’d whispered.
‘I-I’m not sure. But I think it will happen if we don’t leave New Sanctuary.’
Jed had baulked at that. They had everything they’d ever wanted in New Sanctuary: friends, trade and good standing in the community, not to mention their beautiful baby son to think of. If they were to leave suddenly, there would be a lot of difficult questions to answer, and the elders and the Heroes might even forbid it. He’d begged her to let them stay a little while longer – half hoping her forebodings of doom would pass – and she’d reluctantly agreed, although she began to store more of their things in easily transportable bags.
Then the Saint had come.
Now the door opened and allowed Jed a few moments in which he could breathe more easily, but then it closed and the face of death was looking down at him. Its malevolent bloody eye saw into him. There was a shining halo of power around the Saint that burned Jed’s skin whenever it came close.
‘Did Jillan go to Saviours’ Paradise or Heroes’ Brook, Jedadiah?’ Saint Azual asked. ‘Answer your holy Saint or be found guilty of sin.’
Jed had clouded his mind so that the monster before him would not simply be able to pluck the knowledge from his head. Maria had taught him the trick back in New Sanctuary, although at the time she’d said it was just to help him control his temper, anger and fear of small spaces. ‘Learning not to think of bad things often prevents them happening,’ she’d explained. Then, when they’d left New Sanctuary, she’d told him to cloud his thoughts as she’d taught him so that they would not attract the attention of the bad things. ‘It’s similar to people making a warding sign against evil, Jedadiah. Trust me.’ It had seemed to work at the time, but now he had the full and undivided attention of that same evil and he was terrified the trick would not work.
The Saint frowned and tutted. ‘I can force it from you if necessary, Jedadiah. Yours is neither a strong nor a trained mind. You are a simple and honest man, though, yes? I am loath to treat such a man so severely. Surely you understand that I only do this out of duty to the Saviours and the People, no? Jillan is a danger to all those around him. I do not seek to harm him, however; I simply need to Draw the taint from him so that he will no longer be a danger to others. He will have to answer for the killings of cours
e – he’s killed again, by the way – but I know he was not entirely to blame. I promise you, Jedadiah, that after a few years he will be able to return to a normal life. He can marry Hella, as you’d always hoped, and have children and happiness. Surely you want that for him, yes? You will have grandchildren. You just need to tell me where he has gone.’
‘You do not wish to treat me severely, holy one? Just as you did not wish to treat the People of New Sanctuary severely, holy one? You promise me a normal life, holy one? Yet what was your promise worth to the innocent dead of New Sanctuary? You have forfeited your right to anything from me! Why should I trust you will treat my son well when your own Minister in Godsend sought to persecute him? Why should I trust you when you leave a good man like Samnir a dribbling idiot?’
The Saint sighed. His voice was full of contrition as he said, ‘Only the blessed Saviours are perfect, Jedadiah. I have had to endure my own struggles and hardship. I regret what happened in New Sanctuary, but there was no doubt that the Chaos had been allowed to influence the People there. You know there was unholy magic at work there, do you not? Yes, I can see you do. I regret the behaviour of my Minister, and he has already been censured accordingly. And I regret what I had to do to Samnir, but he had to be punished for his defiance and an example had to be made of him to the other Heroes. Surely you understand that none may be permitted to defy the holy representative of the blessed Saviours. Otherwise such anarchy would see the Empire undone and the People ruled by the Chaos.’
Jed was not sure what to say. He had never really understood big ideas like the Empire and the Chaos. If Maria had been here, she’d have known what to say.
The Saint immediately took the last thought from his head. ‘Ah yes, your dear wife Maria. She is well, Jedadiah. She is in the next room, and I have made sure none of the men have touched her. See, I am not the monster you think I am. She was about to tell me where Jillan was herself, but worry overcame her and she fainted. I know she wants you to tell me what I need to know. We don’t have time to wait for her to come round, though, for the sooner we find Jillan the sooner he will no longer be a danger to the People. He’s killed two of the People now, Jedadiah. How many more?’
Jed hesitated. Could Maria really want him to tell the Saint where Jillan was? ‘You are lying,’ he sneered. ‘Let me see her and then I’ll know the truth of your words.’
The Saint casually squeezed Jed’s mind and smiled as the big man winced. ‘You see, I could render Maria unconscious quite easily and appear to be telling the truth. But I am not someone who indulges in such deception, not someone who shrouds their thoughts like you, Jedadiah. Shame on you!’
Jed’s face flushed.
‘I know all of this is confusing for a simple and honest man like you, Jedadiah. Yet I understand your concern is that of a loving husband, as is right and proper. If I do not get the answers I require from either of you soon, then I cannot promise what will or will not happen.’
‘If you touch a hair on her head—’
‘You threaten me?’ the Saint asked dangerously. ‘You are simple, Jedadiah, but that cannot excuse such a blasphemy. You are forcing me to deal with you more severely. If I have to force the answers from your head, your mind will probably be so damaged that you will be little better off than Samnir. That will upset Maria terribly. I doubt I would find Maria’s mind as easy to break down, but her body is far weaker than yours, is it not? Where a brute like you could endure physical torture all day, perhaps perversely enjoying the scars it won you, how would you feel about Maria going through the same and losing her pretty looks? It would be a shame to have to remove that button nose of hers.’
Jed roared in anger and surged to his feet despite his chains. He barrelled into the Saint and knocked him backwards. Jed pursued and brought his head up sharply under the Saint’s chin, snapping the holy representative’s head back. The Saint’s eye lost its focus and his arms flailed as he tried to keep his balance, but his feet caught on each other and he slammed into the wall of the room, suffering another blow to the head.
Jed hopped and jumped closer but in his haste pitched forward. He fell into the Saint and bit at the holy one’s cheek, just short of his good eye.
‘No!’ the Saint screamed in a high girlish voice. ‘Not my eye!’
The panic brought the Saint back to himself. As quick as thought, he seized Jed’s mind and squeezed it hard. The hunter’s back arched and his mouth stretched wide in silent agony. The Saint threw the big man off him as if he were naught but a rag doll. Jed hit the floor heavily, shaking the floorboards and raising a cloud of dust around him. Blood trickled from the hunter’s ears and nose.
‘How dare you!’ the Saint raged, already on his feet. ‘You would attack my holy person? It is inconceivable! Truly you are in the thrall of the Chaos. And all of this had only been a test of you and Maria, Jedadiah, for I have known where Jillan is all along. You have condemned yourself. See!’
The Saint implanted a false image of Jillan entering the gates of a town in Jed’s mind. Jed, dazed as he was, held onto the image as a suffocating man will hold onto his last breath. He has reached Saviours’ Paradise safely. Jed grinned as darkness crept up around his conscious mind.
The Saint gave an ugly laugh. ‘Has he indeed? Then you have at last told me what I needed to know, Jedadiah. I will soon find him and he will willingly give himself to me, if he ever wants to see his parents breathe again.’
Aspin fought his way down the mountain through the snow into the ridges of foothills where there was some tree cover from bone-white birch and grey-stone oaks. The snow wasn’t as thick here and the air was warmer. There was even the odd bird around, singing a questioning note or two to ask where everyone had gone.
He followed the line of foothills, as they gave him a fairly dry route across the land. When they began to peter out, however, he entered an upside-down place of yew trees. Here there were branches wider than the feasting hall in his village. They grew down to the ground from their trunks, went flat for some distance and then wound up into the sky to make cages for the air. A good number of the trunks had been torn in two by heavy branches growing out of each side of them, and their grey skeletons lay everywhere. It was a graveyard of giants. Yet it was an eternal graveyard, for from the centres of the broken trees came new ones, many crying blood-red berries even at this time of year.
Such trees were hallowed to his people, for the berries were so potent that the merest touch of them on the skin would send an individual to sleep for days or longer and visit tortured hallucinations of possible futures on them. Any sort of ingestion of the berry, even a weak distillation, was almost always fatal. Such an ancient grove of trees, were it to exist in the mountains, would have been a sacred and eternal temple of the Geas for his people.
He stood now in awe, listening to the voice of the wind moaning from the huge hollow bodies of the yews. Were he worthy, he would have been able to understand the voices and will of Wayfar of the Warring Winds and Gar of the Still Stone. Would the voices be telling him to go forward or back? Was he being warned or mocked? Or were the voices lamenting the fall of the gods before the others and their Empire came? This was an in-between place: between eternity and an end, the Geas and the Empire, his people and the others, and god-given life and oblivion. Yet Aspin himself was neither on one side nor the other, for he was exiled, in limbo, suspended between realms.
There was a feel of quiet waiting here, which was closer to peace than anything he’d known in his life. He was tempted to lie on the ground with these giants and their petrified blood-red tears so that he could sleep and dream of possible futures forever more. It was so tempting … but he knew his cursed stomach would all too soon rumble in discontent and keep him from his rest. Ah, but this stomach of his was to blame for all his woes. He was tempted to tear it out and have done with it, perhaps devour it to teach it an ironic lesson, but he knew the rest of his body would then all too soon start to protest. Damn this body of his
– it was a constant trial to him. Were it not for his body, existence would be far easier, but even the gods had to manifest themselves physically to exist at all in this world. Damn it, the essential nature of this world was of course physical. That was the deal and something he’d agreed to even when in the womb, so what was he complaining about?
What was his cause for complaint? What was his cause? He had no idea. Damn Torpeth for exiling him and forcing him to find a bigger cause. Why couldn’t the flatulent old hermit just have left him alone to live out his days as the smartest and quickest of the warriors in the village? Why couldn’t he have let him pair with Leesha and have several young ones – the gods permitting – to keep him in his old age while he contented himself with foaming flagons of winter brew by a well-made fire?
Aspin sighed. He knew that he could not spend his life hiding from the others, and his people could not stay safe forever. The others would come eventually, and then it would all be over. Perhaps Torpeth had foreseen that the others would come in Aspin’s own lifetime, and had therefore sent Aspin out to learn what he could, so that his people would be better prepared. But what could really be learned that would save them from the might of an entire empire? The only hope was if Aspin could find the fallen gods and somehow raise them back up so that they could fight for the Geas once more.
The idea seemed to have come from nowhere, but it felt right to him. Yet where were the gods to be found? The others must know, since they had toppled them in the first place. So it came back to finding out about the others once more.
Restful as the grove was, therefore, he could not linger here too long. If he lingered, he might never leave, he knew. Besides, there soon wouldn’t be much shelter between the realms because there was no longer any balance between them: one realm grew stronger while the other became weaker. It looked like the two realms would soon collapse together, the rule and realm of the others finally prevailing, as the realms and power of the Geas were finally undone.
