by A J Dalton
‘I’ve already told you. He lets us choose for ourselves. You’re nothing like the other boys and men round here, Ash. You’re different, special. You will stay here with me, though, won’t you? You won’t go away?’
‘Of course I’ll stay. Forever and ever! How could I not when my heart is here?’
‘O, Ash, that’s wonderful!’ she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. Then she drew back. ‘But won’t Jillan mind?’
‘Why would he mind? He’ll understand, I’m sure.’
‘Maybe you could convince him to stay too.’
‘Well, I don’t know about tha—’ He broke off as she pushed her lips urgently against his and groaned with pleasure and desire.
‘Say you’ll convince him, my beloved Ash. I couldn’t bear to see Stara’s heart broken, and it would be better for him if he stayed, anyway. He’d be happy here. We’ll all be friends together. Say you’ll convince him. For me.’
‘Anything for you.’
Jillan stalked away, not needing to hear any more. Startled, Stara ran to overtake him. He reached the stones at the same moment as she did.
‘Ah, Jillan, join us,’ Bion drawled. ‘Here, have a puff.’
‘Aspin, I need to talk to you,’ Jillan said to the woozy-looking mountain warrior. ‘Over here.’
‘Whatever you sure Jillan say,’ Aspin mumbled. ‘Sure. Whatever you say … Jillan.’ He got to his feet at the second attempt and stumbled after Jillan as he retreated behind the stones.
Stara hovered nearby, watching and listening anxiously. Jillan looked at her and did his best to smile reassuringly. ‘Go back to the house, Stara. Don’t worry. I won’t get lost this time. I need to learn the way on my own if I’m going to stay here with you.’
‘Really?’ she squeaked and clapped her hands together.
‘Really. Why don’t you run and tell your parents the good news?’
‘Oh, yes! They’ll be so happy!’ the girl cried and ran off through the butterflies and drifting dandelion seeds.
Jillan took his friend by the elbow and began to lead him across the meadow. He checked the position of the sun, which had raced further across the sky than it should have done. Jillan had no doubt that by the time they got to the other side of the meadow, dusk would be upon them. Time passed too quickly here. The weather was too good. The setting was too perfect. It was all wrong, and all designed to discourage them from leaving.
‘Come on!’ Jillan urged as he tugged Aspin along. ‘Pick your feet up.’
‘What’s the rush, hmm? Where are we going? Aren’t we staying?’
‘Here, take your bow. We’re leaving.’
‘Oh, okay. What about Betha?’
Jillan didn’t reply.
‘I should say goodbye to her, shouldn’t I?’ Aspin asked dopily.
Jillan kept on pulling as the sky darkened behind them. ‘We have to get to the stables. We need horses.’
‘Where’s Ash then? Isn’t he coming?’
‘He’ll catch up with us, like he did before. Can’t you hear the wolf?’
Aspin blinked drowsily. ‘Wolf? What wolf?’
‘You know, Ash’s black wolf. You saw it on the trip in, remember? It was hard to miss. It’s howling in the distance now. Can’t you hear it?’
‘I … Not really. Are you sure? Bion said you were trau … Now what was it? Oh yes, traumatised.’
‘Forget what he said. Come on! Do you think you can run?’
‘Run? Run where?’
‘Just follow me. That’s it.’
They jogged through the copse. At one point Aspin seemed to lose concentration and stopped. Jillan went back for him and pushed him on. Jillan hopped across the stepping stones, but Aspin’s reactions were too slow to manage them, so he had to splash through the stream. It was now full night.
Jillan led them round the back of the smithy and the house, keeping them in among the trees so that they remained out of sight of anybody inside. The stables were on the far side. They crept further round.
Inside the house a girl passed a pair of the open shutters, silhouetted by the light behind her. Aspin stepped forwards. ‘Be—’
Jillan clapped a hand over Aspin’s mouth and with some difficulty dragged him back among the trees. The silhouette hesitated and leaned out for a second. Then she shook her head and disappeared from view.
Jillan released the breath he’d been holding. It was fortunate that Aspin hadn’t struggled too much.
‘I don’t understand,’ Aspin complained. ‘It’s dark and cold out here. I want to go in where it’s warm and we have friends and family. I want some ale and some home-cooked food.’
‘So do I, Aspin, but none of it’s real.’
‘Eh? Of course it’s real. I want it to be real.’
‘Precisely. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, everything I’ve ever wanted. That’s how I know it can’t be real.’
Aspin rubbed at his temples as if his head hurt. His brow furrowed.
There was the sound of footsteps on wooden stairs from the front of the house. ‘Jillan! Aspin! It’s time to come in now,’ Stara called.
The wolf’s howl began to sound more frantic. Jillan put his finger to his lips, warning Aspin to remain silent. He pulled his friend round the corner of the house, across the yard and into the stables. There were two mares inside – a bay and a dapple – who snorted at them curiously.
‘Get saddles on them,’ Jillan instructed Aspin, who now moved with a bit more coordination than before.
A minute later they had the horses out of the stables. Jillan mounted the dapple and looked across at Aspin. ‘Ready? We’ll need to ride back through the hamlet to find a road that we know. We’ll have to ride hard.’
‘Ready.’ Aspin nodded tiredly. ‘Don’t feel so good though. Like I haven’t slept or eaten in days.’
‘I know. And you probably haven’t either. Come on then. Yah!’
They kicked their horses into a gallop and came round the front of the house. Thomas came bursting out of the front door.
‘Come back!’ he roared. ‘I will show you the secret paths to Hyvan’s Cross.’
But Jillan wasn’t about to stop. He leaned into his mare’s neck and pushed her to greater speed, only looking back once to check Aspin was still with him.
They flashed through the hamlet, riding down the pale figures that came out of the houses to block the road. A mother clutching a babe to her chest wailed in front of them.
‘Don’t stop!’ Jillan shouted at Aspin, spurring forward through the phantasm. ‘Head for the sound of the wolf!’
They passed the last building of Linder’s Drop and entered the pitch black beneath the canopy of the woods, the moonlight only able to penetrate in a few places. Aspin slowed his horse.
‘Jillan, it’s too dangerous at such speed. The horses will catch a root or we’ll hit low-hanging branches.’
‘No! It’s not real. Trust me!’
Aspin kicked on after Jillan with a devil-may-care shout. They drummed through the woods for a hand of miles and then they saw a lighter grey area beyond the trees.
‘The road. At last!’
They slowed as they came closer and turned onto the compacted surface. It didn’t seem right somehow.
‘We’re back in the yard!’
They’d come full circle. The stables stood to the right and Thomas’s house to the left.
‘But how can that be?’
‘I’m not sure, but we’re not staying here,’ Jillan said determinedly, heeling his horse. The dapple refused to take another step.
The dark outlines of a giant and a dwarf came around the corner of the house. The giant hefted a hammer as tall as Jillan in his hands. Red light from a pipe lit Bion’s face.
‘Those horses know who they belong to. They won’t be moving. They’re home and not about to let themselves be stolen by two sneak-in-the-nights!’ Thomas snorted.
Hands shaking, Jillan raised his bow and got an arrow to
the string. ‘Stay back! You promised me those horses, Thomas Ironshoe, aren’t you forgetting? You can’t stop us leaving. I won’t be kept a prisoner here.’
‘Is that any way to be talking to someone who’s invited you into his home, offered you his hospitality, not to mention his best ale, and allowed you to court his daughter? Taking off in the night without so much as a thank you or goodbye? It’s just not decent manners. You should be ashamed of yourself, boy.’
‘Now, now,’ Bion said calmingly. ‘It’s late and we’re all tired. We’re just trying to do right by you is all, after what you’ve done for Thomas here. It’s the least we can do. And we hope you would be doing right by us too. We don’t think it wise for you to be heading for Hyvan’s Cross, but if you really insist on going then you are free to do so. As we promised, we will show you the quickest path there.’
‘Good. We’re leaving then, for Hyvan’s Cross. Just point us the right way and we’ll be off.’
Bion took a meditative puff on his pipe. ‘Very well, we will do so in the morning. But there is something you should know. Aspin doesn’t think it’s a very good idea to go to Hyvan’s Cross, do you, Aspin? He doesn’t believe you two boys have any chance against the thousands of Heroes stationed there, not to mention the Saint, who of course always knows. Aspin thinks you’re deluding yourself. And Aspin actually wants to stay. He promised Betha he would, didn’t you, Aspin? Well, go ahead, tell Jillan.’
Aspin dropped his eyes guiltily. ‘Jillan, I—’
‘It’s all right. Don’t say anything. Stay on your horse!’ Jillan said through gritted teeth, refusing to look at his friend. ‘Last chance, Bion. Point us the right way.’
‘I don’t like your tone, boy!’ Thomas advanced towards them.
‘Peace, good Thomas, peace,’ Bion waved him back. ‘Jillan, if you must leave, at least consider heading west. The plague is rampant in this region. Saint Izat has let it be known that fleeing southerners are welcome in her western region, however. And you know your parents would not want you risking yourself. You’re just too important. Will you at least think about it, Jillan?’
Aspin looked across at Jillan. ‘Maybe we should think about it.’
Self-doubt screamed at Jillan from one side; temptation whispered from the other. There was nowhere to turn. What about this, Jillan? What about that, Jillan? You didn’t think about this, that or the other, did you? Just stop for a moment and it’ll be all right. Even his friend, his only friend, thought he should stop. But then nothing would change.
‘The right way, Bion! Now!’ Jillan quavered.
‘Very well. We will show you in the morning, once we’ve all rested properly. It’s too dark now. We’ll go inside, eat, sleep, say our goodbyes and then set out early.’
It was completely reasonable. Indecision deafened him. He couldn’t think. He was so tired. He couldn’t hear anything any more except his own heartbeat, the blood roaring in his ears and the howling, howling madness in his head. The ravening, eternally restless beast, the violent and terrible wolf. The wolf! Why couldn’t they hear it?
He moved the trembling line of his sight and let fly with his arrow. It zinged through the air and shattered Bion’s pipe, throwing burning cinders up into the gnome’s face and across the yard. Thomas bellowed, raised his hammer over his head and charged at Jillan. As the gnome fell back with a cry, for a moment so brief that it seemed the eye tricked the mind, the house and stables became ruins.
Jillan yanked hard on his reins and the dapple reared, its flying hooves keeping Thomas at bay. As the blacksmith came forward again, Aspin’s turning horse blocked him for a second. Jillan made his horse rear again, but Thomas was now at his side. He felt himself slipping backwards off his saddle and tried to grab the horse’s mane, but it slipped through his fingers and he was suddenly airborne. The fall kept him out of the blacksmith’s reach for moments longer, but the impact with the ground drove all the wind out of Jillan and he curled then arched with pain.
‘Don’t kill him, Thomas,’ Bion commanded. ‘Restrain him. Knock him out if you must.’
The voice helped Jillan orient himself, and he rolled away from Thomas. Hooves stamped down to either side of him, one missing his head by the width of a piece of straw. He rolled again, desperately trying to draw magic, but there was nothing.
Nothing but the howling wolf. ‘I can’t find you! Where are you? Can’t you come to me? Come to me!’
At last! howled the taint joyously. At last he thinks to invite us in!
The embers floating in the air grew into glowing eyes. The darkness came alive, and a wolf as tall at the shoulder as the horses, but twice as broad, leapt into the centre of the yard. With a single swipe, it hurled the dapple away from Jillan. Thomas flung himself out of the mare’s path, dropping his formidable hammer. The wolf now stalked the blacksmith.
Magic flooded Jillan, red light blazing from his eyes and in his hands. He hurled it at the gnome.
‘Mistress, I have failed you!’ screamed the twisted creature as he was bathed in terrible radiation. His nose drooped. His eyelids ran into his eyeballs. He opened his mouth to scream again, but his face slid down into his throat and he swallowed himself. His body liquefied, becoming a steaming puddle, and then evaporated into the night.
‘Noooo!’ Thomas wept, his anguish tearing the air in two.
The house and stables collapsed into decay. Four white mice scurried out of the shell of the dream house and ran towards Thomas. The wolf leapt …
‘Please! Have mercy!’
… and snapped all the mice up in one go.
Broken, the giant blacksmith hugged the ground and sobbed.
‘What just happened?’ Aspin asked as if waking up.
A befuddled Ash kicked mouldering boards out of his way and climbed through what had been the side wall of Thomas’s house. Joining them, the woodsman sighed, ‘Should have known it was too good to be true. She was a mouse then, was she? I suppose it would never have worked.’ He eyed the wolf. ‘And you don’t need to look so smug either. It’s not funny.’
CHAPTER 11:
Repentance always coming after
The blind Saint beckoned the criminal out of the corner of the cell. The young Hero through whose eyes Azual saw everything stood silently watching by the door, just as he’d been commanded. If he dared turn his eyes away when the Drawing happened, his life would be forfeit and the Saint would find himself another pair of eyes. The Hero had to watch everything, no matter how distasteful he found it, so that the holy representative of the Saviours could see how and where to move.
This was the last of the criminals left in the punishment chambers of Hyvan’s Cross. All the others had been drained until they were dead.
‘Come over here!’ the Saint demanded.
The criminal came reluctantly, head bowed low. The wretch had probably realised all the other cells were now silent and feared what was to come. Azual could hardly stand the brief moments of delay caused by the creature’s slow progress across the floor. He needed to Draw more power than ever before if he was to restore his eyesight. He ground his teeth and his hands twitched impatiently.
‘You are guilty of a crime against the People and the Empire,’ the Saint said quickly. ‘Your soul is corrupted. However, you have a chance to redeem yourself if you repent and give yourself willingly to me. Tell me that you wish for Salvation.’
It was always easier to Draw one of the People when they were willing. He could overcome any resistance they put up, of course, but that usually required him to use up almost as much energy as he gained from them, pretty much making it a waste of time. True, a life would be lost as well, but these criminals had proved themselves lacking in faith so the People were better off without them. It was like removing an animal born with a deformity from a flock or herd. Such creatures were generally short-lived anyway, so what did it matter if they died now or a while later?
The criminal – whose face was younger and more angelic than an
y of the others Azual had seen today – was now right before him and looking up expectantly. Had it spoken?
‘What?’ Azual snapped.
‘Holy one, forgive me, but I said I did not commit any crime. The baker said it was me who stole the bread, but I didn’t, honest.’
‘Whether you did or not,’ the Saint growled in irritation, ‘there can be no doubt that you have had thoughts of stealing, jealous thoughts of possessing something that was not yours to possess. You cannot deny it unless you are willing to commit the sin of doing so.’
Tears pricked the corners of the youth’s eyes. ‘It is true, holy one. I have thought of having pastries my family cannot afford. It is difficult when the baker puts his wares out on display, not that I make any excuse! But the smells make my mouth water, and I … I … am weak! But only of thoughts – I never stole anything! Holy one, I repent, truly I do! I give myself to you willingly and wish for Salvation.’
‘Good. I will cleanse your soul.’ Azual took the youth by the neck to hold him steady and then plunged his tapping tube of sun-metal into the jugular. Blood arced out of the end of the tube and into Azual’s mouth. The Saint stirred the traces of the magically imbued blood that still existed in the youth from an initial Drawing several years before. He called to it and it came, bringing the youth’s own life energy with it.
Azual swallowed and swallowed. Ah! So strong, so puissant! The flow of blood eventually slowed to a trickle and then a drip. He wiped his chin and let the youth’s empty body drop to the floor. He felt a flutter of revulsion from the Hero, but chose to excuse his attendant’s lack of understanding.
Azual concentrated the power brimming within him and directed it towards his ruined eyes. He demanded that they be repaired, but his magic merely washed around his eyes without changing them in any way. He strained and cried out in frustration, for he could not create new nerves and flesh, no matter how he tried. A voice inside him whispered that the magic he’d Drawn from the People was the corruption of the Chaos and therefore only capable of destruction, but he didn’t want to hear it. There had to be a way. He just wasn’t powerful enough yet.
