These Haig men had been taken soon after the battle was done. Fleeing south, racing for Kolkyre even though they knew that city was no friend to their Blood, they were encircled by mounted spearmen, who killed a few of them and herded the rest back northwards, made chattels of them. They expected to die in time, for that was what they had always been told to expect of the Black Road. The lethargic apathy of the humbled kept them docile. They had surrendered much of their pride and their resilience in those moments of panic when they broke and scattered from the battle line, undone by a strange, compulsive terror that none of them now spoke of, for they did not understand it, and were ashamed of it. They spoke of nothing at all. There was nothing to say. They merely waited. They did not know whether it was the cold they waited for, or a spear, or starvation, but they believed it was one of those.
Horses came out of the darkness, soft and slow. One or two of the prisoners looked up. They turned away again at once, hid their faces. Inkallim had come, black-haired, grim, astride huge horses that blew gouts of steam from their noses. Guards drifted from their fires to speak with these newcomers. Few words were exchanged.
One of the Inkallim - a sinewy woman with two swords sheathed across her back - jumped down, thumping into the deepening snow. She walked, limping slightly, to the cluster of captives and stood over them. She surveyed them with contempt. They made themselves small, hoping to avoid her gaze.
"Fate smiles upon you tonight," she said, and her voice made some of them shiver. "A task falls to you that will earn you the gratitude of your Thane. Stand up."
No one moved.
"Stand up!" the Inkallim shouted, and they did, one by one. They rose clumsily. Some had to hold their neighbours to keep them from falling. One man dropped the threadbare cloak from his shoulders and bent to pick it up again.
The Inkallim turned and beckoned someone forwards from amongst the riders. A horse stepped carefully over the snow. It bore a hunched figure, enclosed in a hooded cape. The horse came close. Some of the prisoners shuffled back, intimidated by its dark size.
"Let them see you," the Inkallim said quietly.
The rider straightened a little, not enough to take the bend entirely out of his spine, and slipped back his hood with one hand. The revealed face was pale and angular. He stared down at the Nar Vay men. There was silence and then, haltingly, a few murmurs of surprise, of recognition.
"Some of you know him," the Inkallim said, and smiled bleakly. "Those who do not: this is your High Thane's Chancellor. This is Mordyn Jerain. And you are his escort. We give you your freedom, that you may return this man to Vaymouth, and to his place at the side of Gryvan oc Haig."
The prisoners looked at one another, uncertain and hesitant. This was too out of line with the fatalism that had mastered them, too unexpected. They thought they had misheard her.
"You will be renowned," she said, "as the men who brought back the Shadowhand."
They looked up at the sickly, bent figure on the horse. And Mordyn Jerain smiled down at them. It was an unnerving, lifeless smile.
"Take me to Vaymouth. There are many things I must discuss with the Thane of Thanes. Many things."
To be continued . . .
Acknowledgements
I am grateful to the many people who have contributed to getting this trilogy into print, and without whom it would never have happened, or would not have been as enjoyable a process when it did.
Tina, my agent, and Sacha who started it all.
Everyone at Orbit, on both sides of the Atlantic: I won't name names, because they all contribute and they all do so with good humour and dedication and no little talent.
My family, especially my parents whose support and encouragement have been constants since the first day I started making up stories.
My friends, especially Tom who seems to have bought more copies of my first book than anyone else on the planet.
And Fleur, for being entirely invaluable and irreplacable.
Look out for
FALL OF THANES
THE GODLESS WORLD
Book Three
extras
meet the author
Brian Ruckley
BRIAN RUCKLEY was born and raised in Scotland. After studying at Edinburgh and Stirling Universities, he worked for a series of organizations dealing with environmental, nature conservation, and youth development issues. He lives in Edinburgh. Find out more about Brian Ruckley at www.brianruckley.com.
the passage of time
THE FIRST AGE
Began when the Gods made the world and put the One Race in it to inhabit it.
Ended when the One Race rose up against the Gods and was destroyed.
THE SECOND AGE
Began when the Gods made the Five Races: Huanin, Kyrinin, Whreinin, Saolin and Anain.
The Huanin and Kyrinin made war upon the Whreinin and destroyed that race, and were thereafter named the Tainted Races for their sin, and forfeited the love of the Gods.
Ended when the Gods departed from the world.
THE THIRD AGE
Began with the absence of the Gods, and with chaos.
Year
280 The Adravane and Aygll Kingships arose
398 Marain the Stonemason began the construction of Highfast, at the behest of the Aygll King
451 The Alsire Kingship arose, and the era of the Three Kingships began
775 The three Huanin Kingships united against the Kyrinin clans and the War of the Tainted began
787 Tarcene, the Aygll King, was bound, his mind enslaved, by the na'kyrim Orlane; his own daughter, in despair, killed him
788 Tane, the Kyrinin's Shining City, was captured by the Huanin armies, the Deep Rove was raised by the Anain, and the War of the Tainted ended
792 Morvain's Revolt, a rising against the faltering Aygll Kingship, culminated in a failed siege of Highfast
793 The last Aygll monarch - Lerr, the Boy King - was slain at In'Vay, and the era of the Three Kingships ended; Aygll lands descended into chaos and the Storm Years began
847 The Bloods - Kilkry, Haig, Gyre, Ayth and Taral - were founded in Aygll lands, and Kulkain oc Kilkry became the first Thane of Thanes; the end of the Storm Years
849 Kulkain oc Kilkry bade Lorryn the na'kyrim establish at Highfast a library for the preservation of learning and knowledge
852 The last Alsire King was slain, and the first King of the Dornach line took his throne in Evaness
922 The Black Road heresy arose in Kilvale; Amanath the Fisherwoman, its originator, was executed and the creed outlawed by the Bloods
939 Avann oc Gyre-Kilkry, Thane of the Gyre Blood, adopted the creed of the Black Road
940 Civil war broke out amongst the Kilkry Bloods, between the adherents of the Black Road and those opposed to the creed
942 Following their defeat in battle at Kan Avor, the Gyre Blood and all adherents of the Black Road were exiled beyond the Vale of Stones, and founded there the Bloods of the Black Road: Gyre, Horin, Gaven, Wyn and Fane
945 The Lore and Battle Inkalls were founded by the Bloods of the Black Road
948 The last attempt by the Kilkry Bloods to crush the fledgling Bloods of the Black Road in the north ended in failure; their armies retired south of the Vale of Stones and the fortification of Tanwrye began
959 The Hunt Inkall was founded by the Bloods of the Black Road
973 The Lannis Blood was founded, in reward for Sirian Lannis dar Kilkry's defeat of the invading forces of the Black Road at Kolglas
997 Haig replaced Kilkry as first amongst the True Bloods
1052 The Dargannan Blood was founded
1069 The Lannis-Haig Blood defeated Horin-Gyre in the Battle of the Stone Vale, near Tanwrye
1070 Tavan oc Lannis-Haig died, and his son Croesan succeeded him as Thane of the Lannis Blood
1097 The Lannis-Haig Blood was afflicted by the Heart Fever, which killed almost one in six
1102 The Dargannan Blood rebelled against the author
ity of Haig, and Gryvan oc Haig, Thane of Thanes, summoned the armies of the True Bloods to march against them
introducing
If you enjoyed
BLOODHEIR,
look out for
ACROSS THE FACE OF THE WORLD
Book One of the Fire of Heaven Trilogy
by Russell Kirkpatrick
It was still dark when the old man woke. For a moment he could not pinpoint what had caused him to awaken so suddenly; but, being a landsman, he knew something was amiss. Then he heard it: the shuddering moan of the wind, a soft, unsettling sound from far off, profoundly disturbing to the old man. He had not heard this particular sound for maybe twenty years or more, not since the night he lost his old barn, the barn built by the Haufuth's grandfather. In a moment he was up and dressed, searching for his cloak. Another moment and he was peering outside.
A light snow filtered down in a calm air. It lay undisturbed, inches thick on the ground. But behind the calm came the sound of approaching violence, a low moaning that set the farmer's teeth on edge.
After venturing outside to make sure his horse was adequately sheltered, he closed the door softly and sat heavily on a wooden chair, lines of concern etched on his expressive face. If he were at home, he would have secured the outbuildings of Stibbourne Farm, bolted all the doors and shutters of his house, moved all the furniture over to the walls, and sat the storm out. Well, as long as Tinei kept herself safe, he wouldn't worry about his buildings. Please, Most High, don't let that headstrong woman go outside to try to secure the farm! There was no chance of his making it home before the wind hit. But what should he do here? His hands fidgeted as he thought. The girl Indrett has probably never seen a real Iskelwen storm before. Will she know what to do? That fool Mahnum! Plenty of girls in the village to choose from! It was just as well that Modahl hadn't lived to see it. His only son marrying a southerner!
He laughed. After all these years, he found himself thinking like a northerner far too often.
He took a deep breath and stood up, grimacing as the ominous sound seemed to mix itself up somewhere in his vitals. He had to do something. Just then the boy Leith came through from the bedroom, rubbing the sleep from heavy eyes. "What's the noise? Sounds a bit like tomcats . . ." He faltered to a stop at the sight of the farmer's worried frown.
"A real storm! Not the sort of wind you villagers call an Icewind, boy--this is a full-blown Iskelwen howler. Haven't seen one for years. This sort doesn't bring snow, it just picks it up from the ground where it lies and hurls it at you. Is your mother awake?"
Leith shook his head. "Don't think so," he mumbled sleepily.
The farmer grunted. "Wake her. We need to get this place ready."
As they began moving furniture, first Indrett and then Hal came into the room. The farmer explained what they were doing, and soon Leith was busy bolting the storm shutters while the others cleared the room of anything that the wind might be able to throw about should it manage to break into the cabin. The farmer instructed them to extinguish the fire, and set Hal to work damping the embers in the grate. A single candle flickered in the middle of the bare floor. As they labored the dreadful noise drew closer, and the people in the cabin had to shout to each other in order to be heard. It developed into a shrieking wail; the sound someone might make, Leith imagined, were they being slowly torn limb from limb. Now the roar was overhead, but still no wind.
"Where's the wind?" Leith shouted to the old man. Strangely, the farmer's red-rimmed eyes were lit up with something that looked like excitement.
"Comes with a big cloud," returned the farmer. Leith could barely hear him. "Like a breaking wave--sucks air up into it--wind drives the cloud ahead--" but Leith lost the rest. For a moment the shrieking tailed off, then a rumbling, rasping noise like the stampeding of a thousand hills beat at them and the wind struck. Leith thought he could see the northern wall of the cabin beginning to bend. Suddenly a sharp banging noise came from behind them. The farmer shouted something at Leith, waving wildly in the direction of the bedroom. Leith nodded and ran off. He could feel air rushing past him as he ran. A shutter had come loose in the bedroom. As he went to close it, the wind slammed it shut in front of him, nearly taking off his hand. He struggled to push the rusty old bolt properly closed, hammering it home finally using Hal's staff.
The people in the room settled in to a tense wait. Conversation was all but impossible as the wind howled about them and the timber of the cabin protested with groaning and, more ominously, cracking noises. It was as though some giant had snatched up the cabin and was shaking it with a series of random jerks calculated to catch those inside off guard. Leith wondered how the other families in the village were coping with this monster wind. He wished it was light outside so he could see the storm; what stories he could tell the others! For a moment he began to think about Stella in her cabin at the northern end of the village, at the edge of the forest. Her gossipy, shrewish mother, her dour father, her brother the drunkard. How were they coping with the Icewind?
Then he forgot all about Stella as he saw a corner-post bend slowly, fractionally inwards. Such was the roar from the wind that none of the others seemed to have noticed.
With a loud report it broke in two.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1: Kilkry-Haig
Chapter 2: Highfast
Chapter 3: Anain
Chapter 4: Shadowhand
Chapter 5: Thane
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Meet the Author
The Passage of Time
Preview of Across The Face of fhe World
Godless World 2 - Bloodheir Page 52