The Quickening

by Fiona McIntosh

  When Cailech was seated on his horse Celimus strolled up. ‘Safe travels, my friend.’ Cailech simply nodded. The Morgravian turned to his prisoner. ‘Another lucky escape, Ylena Thirsk, but this time I fear it is your last. I won’t be seeing you again.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll see me, Celimus,’ Wyl promised, a determined, somewhat sly smile touching Ylena’s lips. ‘In a place I call hell.’

  Celimus laughed. ‘Good luck with her, Cailech — as I understand it, her husband ploughed the furrow only once. She’ll be nice and tight for you. Remember your promise to me.’

  Celimus’s words shocked Wyl, but he put them aside in order to take this last opportunity to have the last word. He had never heard Ylena’s voice sound as cold and threatening. ‘And you remember my promise to you, Celimus. When we meet again, you will die and I will bear witness to it. Just you and I, Celimus — as it should be.’

  The words sounded strangely prophetic to Chancellor Jessom. He was not sure why but the threat felt so very real on this cold night in the north, and yet how could it be, coming from a helpless captive; a young woman at that? Nevertheless, a chill passed through him as he watched Ylena Thirsk stare at the Morgravian King. Jessom was missing something here, he was sure of it, but even his sharp mind could not fathom what it might be. Ylena was too confident, too unfazed by Celimus — she had demanded her own death, for pity’s sake. What person in their right mind did that? It did not make sense. He glanced at Aremys and was surprised to see the mercenary was watching him. The clue sat between Aremys and Ylena; Jessom was convinced of it. He narrowed his gaze in thought and saw the Grenadyne nod towards him as the party, escorted by Legionnaires, moved out of Tenterdyn.

  Jessom watched them depart in silence, seized by an unshakeable notion that, despite what either King promised, they had definitely not seen the last of the Thirsks.

  The journey back to the border was uneventful and mostly silent. That suited Wyl; he was content to let his horse follow the party whilst he fell into deep thought about this new turn of events. Being pulled further from Celimus was confusing but then Fynch had warned him of the randomness of Myrren’s gift. Perhaps this was one of those occasions. It did not mean the outcome had changed, only the timing. He fully expected to meet Celimus again — and next time, as he had promised, he would not fail. His mind turned to what the King of the Razors might have in mind for him. Why had Cailech stayed the hand of Ylena’s would-be murderer? He felt a sudden gratitude to the Mountain King, for perhaps Aremys was right; so far all his deaths had involved someone killing him with a weapon they held. He noticed Cailech beckon to Aremys, who nudged his horse to draw alongside the King, but he could not hear their conversation and lost himself in his thoughts again.

  ‘What is it between you and the Thirsk woman?’ Cailech asked Aremys, direct as usual.

  ‘Sire?’

  ‘Don’t play the innocent with me. I’m sure I deserve better.’

  Aremys sighed. ‘It’s true, my lord. I did not want to see Ylena Thirsk murdered.’

  ‘That much is obvious. But why?’

  ‘Because she is innocent of all that Celimus lays at her feet.’

  Cailech made a soft sound of exasperation. ‘I can work that out for myself, Grenadyne. Tell me something I don’t know, something which accounts for that look in your eyes that fairly begged me to step in and halt the proceedings.’

  Aremys knew he would have to skirt the truth as carefully as possible. Cailech was not about to let this topic go. ‘When I was picked up unconscious in the eastern part of the Razors by Myrt and his companions,’ Aremys began, ‘I had lost my memory, as you know.’ The King nodded but said nothing. The horses slowed to a walk. They could see flaming torches being waved in welcome from a distance. It would not be long now before they were reunited with their men. ‘As my memory returned I remembered the paid task I was involved with at the time of being set upon by the thieves in northern Briavel.’

  ‘I’d like to hear the end of this before we actually reach the others, Aremys,’ Cailech admonished gently.

  Aremys nodded and got to the point. ‘I was hired by King Celimus to track down and murder Ylena Thirsk.’

  ‘I had guessed as much.’

  Aremys was not surprised. ‘Celimus has, as I understand it, my lord, designed the deaths of Wyl Thirsk, Romen Koreldy, King Valor of Briavel, perhaps even his own father, and no doubt countless others.’

  ‘You knew about Romen?’ Cailech interrupted.

  ‘It only came back to me recently. I didn’t know him, my lord, only of him.’

  ‘Why do you think you mentioned him when you awoke from your stupor?’

  Aremys was reminded again that Cailech missed very little. ‘I suppose because Ylena Thirsk mentioned to me that he carried a blue sword.’

  ‘So you did actually meet up with her?’ Cailech said, his mind moving swiftly now.

  ‘Yes, sire. I met with her at Felrawthy and had no intention of killing her as instructed. We talked of Koreldy because she was so grateful for his help in saving her life the first time. Having learned all that had befallen the Thirsks and accepting that this girl was an innocent, I followed Koreldy’s lead and decided to help her. Mercenary I may be, sire; cold-blooded murderer with no good reason, I am not. It was I who took her into Briavel where I felt she would be safe. We lost each other at Timpkenny when I wandered out for some air and got set upon.’ His story suddenly sounded horribly thin. He continued quickly. ‘We’d already discussed her going to Werryl and throwing herself on the mercy of the Queen, so she must have followed the plan in my absence.’

  ‘So the note to Valentyna of Briavel, which you claimed to have sent — that was a ruse?’

  Aremys nodded. ‘I had to lie — I was trapped. But who would have thought the Queen would give her up in the fashion she did? I had both your and my life at stake, as well as Ylena’s. You’ll recall when I told you about my insurance that I had no idea how to deliver the Thirsk woman.’

  Cailech nodded. ‘I could, of course, be forgiven for thinking that Ylena Thirsk wishes to die. Perhaps she forced the Queen’s hand?’

  ‘Perhaps and, frankly, who could blame her?’ Aremys offered, not wanting to say much more, nervous that he had got this far on lies.

  ‘And your need to rub salt in the prisoner’s wounds was actually your way of warning Ylena — am I right?’

  ‘Again, yes, sire. I needed Ylena’s story to match with mine in front of Celimus, or I feared none of us would leave that hall alive.’

  ‘The Chancellor knows nothing?’

  ‘Nothing, my lord. He watched Ylena and myself argue. I was fortunate that a message came for him during that time in the outbuilding. We had but a few moments.’

  ‘I see,’ Cailech replied. He fell silent. They were almost at the rendezvous point — could see Captain Bukanan and the other dignitaries being brought down to be exchanged. ‘One more thing, Aremys.’

  ‘Yes, my lord?’

  ‘Why do you care about Ylena Thirsk? What hold does she have on you?’

  And here we come to it, Aremys thought, struck suddenly that he had no answer to this question. Cailech waited as the mercenary’s mind raced to find something to offer the King. The carefully constructed web of lies could be torn down in a second if he said the wrong thing now.

  ‘What is it, Aremys? Why do you hesitate?’ Cailech asked, more pointedly. ‘Are you hiding something I should be concerned about?’

  ‘No, my lord. It’s not that —’

  ‘Then what!’ Cailech demanded. Aremys noticed Ylena glance behind at the disturbance of a raised voice. ‘You will tell me, Grenadyne, before we meet our men… before I permit you to enter the Razors again, before I —’

  It was Aremys’s turn to interrupt. ‘Because I love her!’ he blurted, shocked by the vehemence in his voice and surprised by where the statement had come from. But the last thing he wanted was to be separated from Wyl again and this was the best reason he could ma
nufacture. It was not so far from the truth: he loved the person that was Wyl and had certainly desired Faryl. He had admired Romen since he was a lad, so all in all he was not really lying even though he was not wholly telling the truth.

  Cailech looked at him, astonished. For a moment neither man spoke and Aremys knew he must hold that hard gaze no matter what. To look away now would show weakness or deception. Who knew which way the wily King of the Razors would interpret it?

  ‘You jest,’ Cailech said eventually.

  ‘I do not, sire,’ Aremys said sadly.

  ‘But —’

  ‘Let us not speak of it any more, my lord,’ Aremys said, glad for the cover of darkness to shield his embarrassment. ‘I have not yet expressed my deepest thanks for what you did today for Ylena. Let me do so now.’

  ‘By Haldor’s arse, man, I didn’t do it for you,’ Cailech said, still rocked by the Grenadyne’s admission. ‘I did it for purely selfish reasons. I would be lying if I did not admit here and now that I desire her more than I have desired any woman. I meant what I said.’

  Myrt arrived. He took one look at his King and knew something was awry. He nodded to his sovereign. ‘Welcome back, sire.’

  ‘Get rid of the Morgravian escort, Myrt, and make the official exchange,’ Cailech said and turned back to Aremys.

  Myrt accepted the salute of the Legion’s senior officer and oversaw the departure of the men. When he returned, he glanced between Aremys and the King, unsure of what to do.

  ‘We’ll be right with you, Myrt,’ Cailech said. ‘Take good care of the noblewoman we’ve brought with us.’

  Myrt took the reins of Ylena’s horse and led the creature into camp without another word.

  ‘I mean to make her my wife, Aremys.’

  ‘Without even knowing her,’ the mercenary replied softly, careful not to sound judgemental.

  Cailech looked towards the stars and gave Aremys the truth. ‘I’ve never been so affected by a woman and I’ve barely so much as shared a word with her. She is dishevelled, dirty, angry. She is magnificent. I want her.’

  ‘She is certainly different to any woman I’ve ever known,’ Aremys admitted, unable to help himself. ‘Be careful, sire.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘Of getting your heart broken.’

  Aremys meant it sincerely. He knew Wyl would shout loud and long when he heard of the King’s intentions and Aremys could only wonder at how long Ylena would keep her life once Wyl set his mind to losing it this time. Minutes probably, after hearing the word ‘wife’ uttered.

  Cailech, however, took the mercenary’s meaning a completely different way. A dawning spread across his expression. ‘Oh, poor Aremys. The Lady Ylena has rejected your advances.’

  ‘No, my lord,’ Aremys corrected. ‘I have never made them.’

  ‘She doesn’t know?’ he asked, aghast.

  The Grenadyne shook his head. ‘I prefer it that way.’

  ‘Then what do you mean about getting my heart broken?’

  ‘Only that she loved her husband, Alyd Donal of Felrawthy. She will never love another.’

  ‘We shall see. She has nothing else,’ Cailech said, matter-of-factly. ‘We have cleared this between us then?’

  ‘My lord?’

  ‘I can’t have you mooning around the woman whilst I’m seducing her, man! I don’t want us to fight over her.’

  Aremys smiled for the first time in a long time. ‘Good luck to you if she will have you, Cailech.’

  The King of the Razors grinned and held out his hand; again, it was palm up in absolute sincerity. Aremys laid his own palm upon it. ‘You constantly surprise me, Grenadyne. Now if you’d be so kind, I’ll ask you to introduce me to my bride-to-be.’

  Elspyth was laid out on a makeshift pallet on the ground, blankets piled over her small frame to keep out the bite of the cool spring night. A nearby torch lit her face a ghostly colour.

  ‘Am I dying?’ she asked Crys who held her hand.

  He mustered the crooked grin she loved. ‘No, but we’ve got to get those wounds closed up. Drink this,’ he said, and helped her to sit up slightly. ‘It’s warm, sweetened tea. Good for shock, my mother always says.’ He sighed. ‘Said.’

  ‘Crys, take me home.’ It was a plea. She squeezed his hand. ‘I know you’ve probably got better things to do than travel to Yentro but I just want to get back to the north.’

  ‘To Lothryn?’ he wondered, his voice gentle.

  ‘Both. I can get well quicker at home and I will feel closer to him with the Razors in sight. I’ve had enough of roaming the land. The last time I slept in my own bed, ate in my own cottage, did something simple like going to the market, seems a lifetime ago. I need to see if my aunt is still alive and I need to take stock of my life. Wyl doesn’t need me now.’

  ‘Will you promise me that you won’t go off into Cailech’s lands if I do take you home?’ Her pause was telling. ‘I won’t let you waste yourself, Elspyth. You know how I feel about you —’

  ‘Don’t, Crys,’ she begged softly.

  ‘I don’t mean it like that,’ he urged. ‘I know where your heart lies. But I care too much about you to let you risk yourself, and Wyl would kill me anyway if I did.’

  She found a smile for him. ‘He’d be wrathful for sure. You saw him in Werryl?’

  He nodded and laughed. ‘Supremely cranky too. He’d got the flux and he made an inappropriate move on the Queen.’

  Elspyth could not help but be amused by Crys’s well-timed jest, and the theatrical arch of his eyebrow had her spluttering into painful laughter and then groaning at the way it tore at her wounds. ‘Oh, I mustn’t laugh at him,’ she said, ‘but I can’t help it. I wish I’d known Wyl before Myrren’s gift.’

  ‘He was no painting,’ Crys commented, determined to see her smile again. His timing, as always, was perfect and she found herself giggling once more.

  They were interrupted by Liryk. ‘Well, this is all very heartening.’

  Crys cleared his throat. ‘Anything to keep her conscious and her mind off her woes,’ he admitted and winked.

  Liryk nodded. ‘Elspyth, I’m so sorry we let you down.’ It was the second time he had apologised but he felt this time she was paying more attention. ‘I promised my Queen I would find you for her.’

  ‘Please, Commander Liryk, the fault is all mine. It was stupid of me to leave as I did and even more naive to fall for that man’s cruel trap. Did you find his daughter, by the way?’

  ‘We did. We’ll take her back to Werryl and see if we can find the rest of her family.’

  ‘Good. She was part of the scheme, I know, but she’s so young. Her father used her as much as he used the women.’

  ‘Well, he’s gone to answer for his sins to Shar now. Now don’t think me odd but we do need to get you stitched, my girl. Those wounds risk infection if we don’t and that would be life-threatening even if the injuries aren’t.’

  ‘Do you have a physic in the company?’ Crys asked.

  Liryk gave a nervous smile. ‘No, but as it happens a Master Rilk passed through an hour ago. One of my men recognised him and hailed him.’

  Elspyth nodded. ‘Is he a doctor?’

  The Commander looked sheepish. ‘He’s a tailor.’ He waited for the outburst from Crys to settle. ‘Hear me out. Next to Madam Eltor, there isn’t a more adept person with a needle and thread in the whole of Briavel. He crafts for the top nobility in Morgravia too — that’s where he is travelling from.’

  ‘A master tailor to sew me up?’ Elspyth queried.

  ‘He has the finest silken thread and a light touch, Elspyth. It’s the best we can do. He’s rather nervous but has agreed. Those wounds need to be sutured and rather than let one of my men do a hack job, I’d far rather allow a talented craftsman to work on your skin.’

  Elspyth felt even more light-headed at the notion of being laid out like fabric for a tailor to work on.

  Crys was frowning. ‘I suppose, under the circumstances,
this is the best option?’

  Liryk nodded; he had already motioned to the soldier behind him to bring the tailor forward. ‘This is Master Rilk,’ he said, and looked at the craftsman. ‘This is Duke Crys Donal and our patient, Elspyth.’

  Crys shook the tailor’s hand. ‘She’s got four major cuts.’

  The little man was already perspiring, even though it was a cool night, and Crys had to wonder if he was up to such a grisly task. ‘Can you stomach it, sir?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, yes. I’ve done something similar but it was for my son’s beloved pet.’ He chanced a grin but no one returned it. ‘I’m sure Miss Elspyth will have far finer skin,’ Rilk assured and then his tone became brisk and businesslike. ‘Can we have her gently moved to a table, please? I’ll need lots of light and clean linens and hot water. I presume you have some antiseptic?’ Liryk nodded. ‘Good, I’ll need plenty of it. Do you have any shorrock or liquor with you?’

  ‘I’m sure we can find some,’ Liryk said.

  ‘Do it quickly, please, and get some down Miss Elspyth’s throat to dull the pain. Not too much, mind, just sufficient to help her drift off a bit.’

  Elspyth had already drifted, frightened yet too exhausted to keep her attention on what was about to happen.

  Knave was back at Fynch’s side. The boy was pale and trembling from the exertion of returning the dog to the Razors.

  This is exactly what I was afraid of, Knave growled into Fynch’s head.

  ‘I’ll be all right soon. I just need to sleep.’

  Have you taken some sharvan?

  ‘No. Just let me be.’

  Knave looked around, quietly exasperated. Fynch had made no progress since they had parted. He had obviously become too weak to send himself anywhere after the efforts of transporting Knave.

  ‘How was Valentyna?’ the boy mumbled.

  Worried about you. Liryk and his company left immediately.

  ‘Good… ah wait, here is Kestrel.’ It took Fynch some pain to open up his mind but he wanted Knave to share this.