by Ian Irvine
Suddenly they were all around. He lurched in a circle, trying to keep them all in sight and holding Karan in front of him as a shield. As they moved in, he closed his hands around her throat.
“Back,” he gasped. “Or I choke her to death.”
But the Whelm were immune to such threats. Idlis would do everything he could to save her, but if she died during the rescue he would be released from his obligation.
Ragred kept rotating, kept squeezing. Karan was gasping, kicking her legs and trying to tear his hands away, but could not break his grip. Spots floated before her eyes; she could feel the darkness rising and the Whelm were still twenty yards away. By the time they reached Ragred she would be dead. The light faded…
“Mummy!” Sulien was shrieking in her ear. “Mummy! Wake up.”
Karan was on the ground and Ragred was half across her, his fingers closing and opening around her neck.
“Get off, you bollocky bastard!” screamed Sulien, whacking the back of Ragred’s head with a stick.
What had happened to him? His breath was gurgling in his throat. Sulien caught one of his nodule-studded wrists and heaved with all her weight, but it barely moved. His fingers clenched and again Karan began to choke.
Idlis lurched up, put his narrow boot on Ragred’s face, took hold of his wrist and heaved. He could not budge it either. He drew a wavy-bladed knife, put it against Ragred’s wrist and forced it outwards, cutting his hand off. Blood pumped all over Karan’s front.
Ragred let out a howl and convulsed backwards, but only the upper part of his body moved. The severed hand clung to her throat for a moment then the fingers slowly relaxed. Idlis flicked it away with his knife. Sulien caught Karan under the arms and tried to drag her away.
Ragred shrieked, “What have you done to me?” His stump flailed, spurting blood in all directions.
He tried to get up but his lower body remained where it was. He clawed at his back and Karan saw a double-bladed throwing axe embedded there. It must have severed the spinal cord. She shuddered and came to her knees. Idlis had just missed her with a similar axe twelve years ago, during his month-long pursuit after her escape from Fiz Gorgo with the stolen Mirror of Aachan.
Ragred’s fingers touched the axe handle.
Idlis put the blade to his throat. “Why?” he said thickly.
Ragred did not answer. Idlis pressed the point into his neck. Blood flowed. The other Whelm closed in and Ragred looked at them in naked terror.
With Sulien’s help, Karan came to her feet. “Let me,” she croaked. The words stung her bruised throat.
She approached Ragred warily. He had gone a muddy grey; he must be bleeding internally. But he was a strong man; he might heave the axe from his back and hurl it at her.
“Ragred, in ten minutes you’ll be dead. You said you weren’t a violent man. You can prove your quality before you die.”
He did not answer.
“Your master’s hold on you is about to break. Who is he?”
She thought he was going to defy her, then he said, in a wisp of a voice, “Snoat.”
“Why does he want the chain?”
“Hopes… recover… Shuthdar’s spell.”
“I didn’t know Snoat was interested in mancery.”
“It’s why… framed Llian. And took him.”
“Snoat has Llian?” Karan hissed. Sulien let out a cry. “Why?” said Karan. “He couldn’t cast a spell to save his life.”
Was this better than him being on the run from the law? In the short term, perhaps. Snoat would keep Llian safe until he got what he wanted. But after that… Karan knew that he hated Zain.
“Don’t know…” Ragred was fading rapidly now.
“Is Llian all right?”
“For… now.”
“Where is he?”
“Pem-Y-Rum.”
“Where’s that?” Karan said frantically.
“Estate near Chanthed. Snoat soon… put him down.”
His severed wrist was hardly bleeding now. He toppled onto his face, bubbles popping thickly in his throat. His arms thrashed. Idlis walked across, put his iron-shod boot on the uppermost blade of the double-bladed axe and shoved. The thrashing stopped. Ragred was dead.
And the clock was ticking for Llian. If Karan could not free him, Snoat would put him to death. Soon.
42
YOU WILL SAVE DADDY, WON’T YOU?
Idlis must have sensed Karan’s need to be alone with Sulien, for he moved the Whelm’s camp over the ridge, out of sight. Karan limped back and forth, gathering firewood and collecting water, then setting up their little tent, for it was already sprinkling.
She cut up strips of fatty bacon, sizzled them in the pan with an eye-stinging yellow onion and the shrivelled remains of the carrots and beans she had brought from Gothryme, added water and stirred in cracked wheat to thicken it. They had eaten the same meal every day but she was too hungry to care.
Sulien sat under a tree twenty feet away. She had not spoken since Ragred’s death, which was worrying. She was normally such a chatterer. Karan could not imagine what Sulien must be thinking. It was a wonder she had not shut down completely.
Karan was close to it herself. She kept reliving Ragred’s attack and the axe in his back, the magiz’s agony as her leg had been destroyed and, most chilling of all, Sulien clutching at her head as that slow trickle of blood ran from her nose.
And then there was Llian, held prisoner by Snoat and soon to die. He must be desperate.
Karan filled two bowls with soup and took them to the tent, one at a time. She was shaking so badly that she had to use both hands. “Come here.”
A wary look crossed Sulien’s face, then she ran and snuggled under Karan’s left arm. They sat in the entrance and ate their soup in silence. The fire crackled. Raindrops pattered on the roof of the tent.
“How is your throat, Mummy?” said Sulien very formally.
“The hot soup stings, going down.”
“It’ll be better in the morning.”
“Yes.”
The stilted exchange died. Karan ran through her options again but saw no solution. The magiz would take time to recover, though when she did she would pursue them even more relentlessly – it was personal now. She would trace Karan through the psychic stigma and attack Sulien, so what choice was there but to send her away with the Whelm?
Though if she did, Sulien could only take it as a betrayal by the one person she had always relied on. Besides, Idlis’s actions had reminded Karan that the Whelm could be inhumanly ruthless.
The rain grew heavier and they retreated to their sleeping pouches. Sulien laid her head on Karan’s breast, sighed and wriggled around, then settled. Karan did not. Trying to rescue Llian with a child in tow was out of the question. If she was caught or killed, Sulien would be alone and defenceless in a land where she knew no one.
“Are you worrying about Llian?” Sulien said softly.
She hardly ever called her father by his name. It was a troubling sign. Karan did not want to burden her any more than she was already, but if they were to part she had to know everything.
“You didn’t hear Ragred’s last words,” said Karan. “Once Snoat gets what he wants from Llian he’s going to…”
“Kill him.” Sulien clung to Karan. “We’ve got to save Daddy.”
“But the stigma the magiz put on me means I can’t be with you. It’s too dangerous.”
Sulien said nothing for such a long time that Karan felt sure she had fallen asleep. She stared at the fire through the triangular opening. There was no solution.
“Thank you,” said Sulien.
Karan started. “What for?”
“For talking to me like a grown-up.”
Karan hugged her.
“The Whelm are very strange, aren’t they?” Sulien added.
She crawled out of her sleeping pouch into Karan’s, and soon she slept.
Hours passed and Karan was still turning possibilities over, de
sperately seeking a solution where there was none. There had to be a way to protect her. Malien had to unblock Karan’s gift for mancery, whatever the risk. Karan reached out to her but could not make a link; she could not sense Malien at all.
The logs crumbled to winking coals, the coals to ash. A breeze drifted smoke into the tent. Sulien coughed once without waking. The pattering rain died away to occasional spatters of heavy drops as the breeze shook the branches above the tent. Finally, Karan slept.
She woke with a start, more tired than when she had lain down to sleep, to find Sulien up and dressed, cooking bacon and toasting stale bread. Her hair was freshly brushed and tied back in a curly pony tail, her pack stood outside the tent and the water pot was boiling.
Karan staggered out, rubbing her bruised throat and swollen cheeks. The Whelm were coming down from their camp, lugging their gear towards the track and saddling their emaciated mounts. Sulien heaved out Karan’s pack and the saddlebags. Karan choked down her bread and bacon, washed it down with bitter herb tea and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Tears kept forming in her eyes; she scoured them away.
Sulien, who was down on the track talking to Yetchah, came solemnly up the hill, lifting the silver chain over her head. Yetchah was close behind.
“I want you to have this back, Mummy,” Sulien said, holding out her hand. Fiachra’s chain formed a small silver pool there.
She was normally a grubby child, but her hands were clean and pink as if they had been freshly scrubbed, her fingernails were clean, and she was wearing her best clothes. A chill settled over Karan. It was as if Sulien was preparing for a funeral.
“You need it more than I do,” Sulien added. “For protection.”
Karan took the chain but did not put it on.
“What protection?” said Yetchah, frowning.
Reluctantly, Karan gave it to her. Yetchah stroked it, both ways.
“The protection is blocked and I can’t unblock it,” she said, handing the chain back. “It’s useless.”
“War is coming,” said Karan, shivering and clutching Sulien tightly, “and Snoat has weakened us when we most need to be united.”
“War is coming,” said Yetchah. “I can almost touch it.” The Whelm exchanged glances.
“You’ve got to save Daddy,” said Sulien.
Karan felt hot and flushed; she was drenched in sweat. She swallowed. “I don’t see how I can.”
Sulien looked up at her, then at Idlis and Yetchah and the other grim-faced Whelm, then back at Karan. She squared her small shoulders. Her lower lip trembled but she managed to still it.
“I’d only be in the way. I’ll go with Idlis and Yetchah.” She turned to Idlis. “You will take me, won’t you?”
Suddenly his ugly face was lit by an astounding inner glow, unlike any expression Karan had ever seen on the face of a Whelm.
“We will take you home with us, little one,” he said, almost as overwhelmed by the moment as Karan was. “And treat you just like our own children until Karan comes for you.”
It was far worse than if she had sent Sulien unwillingly. No child should have to make such an act of self-sacrifice.
“You will save Daddy,” said Sulien, staring at her with a mixture of hope and desperation. “Won’t you?”
Karan lifted Sulien and squeezed her tightly, her tears raining down on the child’s upturned face.
“Whatever it takes,” said Karan, “I’ll do it. And after we’ve finished the magiz and broken the summon stone, we’ll come and take you home.”
Karan could not tell if Sulien believed her preposterous statement. Nevertheless she swallowed audibly, wiped her eyes and went to Idlis and Yetchah.
The dreadful parting had come. The Whelm were heading south-west across the rugged hills, and Karan was going west to Chanthed. Her sole consolation was that Sulien would soon be beyond the reach of the magiz.
They said their goodbyes, then, frozen in despair, Karan watched Sulien’s small white-faced figure ride away. No moment in Karan’s life had ever been as bad. Would she be safe? What if the magiz found her anyway? Could the Whelm do anything to save her? Would they even know she was being attacked, or would they just find her small, cold body after the magiz had gleefully drunk Sulien’s life to feed her own sick addiction?
When they were out of earshot, Karan screamed until she tasted blood in the back of her throat and every bird in every tree for a hundred yards around had taken flight.
She looked after the Whelm but even their small dust cloud had dispersed. It was done, and she had to be just as strong.
“Let’s get moving,” she said to Jergoe. He felt like the only bit of home she had left.
Jergoe flicked his ears. She wheeled and galloped for Chanthed.
Whatever Yetchah had done to the silver chain, it had also heightened Karan’s sensitive’s gift. She could sense the ruin inflicted by Snoat’s armies; if she closed her eyes and imagined a map of Iagador, a stain was creeping down from Thurkad and the conquered lands to its north.
It was inching west towards Bannador and south towards central Iagador. Once they fell, only one great force would remain, the Free City of Sith. Sith was strong, but it had fallen to Yggur twelve years ago and it could fall again. When that happened, there would be no effective resistance left. And then the Merdrun would invade.
It was a distraction she could do without. She slipped the chain into a pocket and buttoned the flap.
“Faster, Jergoe.”
43
IT COULD BE AWKWARD
In Chanthed, Karan checked Jergoe into a stable and trudged up the street to the markets, where she bought a sweet bun and picked pieces off it as she walked. Her burning drive to get here had been replaced by panicky despair. How could she hope to rescue Llian from the most powerful man in the land?
Her head was aching. She took off her broad-brimmed hat, unbound her hair and shook it out. Someone tugged on it and she whirled, thinking it was a mischievous child, and was confronted by a beaming young woman her own height. She was thin with a long plain face and short platinum-coloured hair. Karan blinked at her for a few seconds before recognising the child she had been the last time they had met, a dozen years ago. Lilis, a street urchin then, had helped Llian escape from Thurkad and Karan would always think kindly of her for it.
“Lilis! What a coincidence meeting you here.”
“Hardly. We’re here for the meeting. Aren’t you?”
“What meeting?”
“Of our allies – Nadiril, Shand, Tallia, Yggur…”
“Oh yes, Tallia did mention a meeting, weeks ago. I’m glad Nadiril’s here. If anyone knows where the summon stone is—”
“He hasn’t heard of it,” said Lilis. “Tallia already asked.”
“Oh!” said Karan, deflated. “But it’s so good to see you. You look…”
“Like a future librarian, I hope.” Lilis studied her anxiously. “I’m so sorry about Llian.”
Something burst inside Karan. “He’s not dead?”
“I meant the murder charge,” said Lilis. “Obviously he’s been framed.”
“By Snoat. He’s got Llian in Pem-Y-Rum,” said Karan, low-voiced. “And Snoat hates Zain.”
“Shh!” Lilis drew Karan into a side street. “He’s got spies everywhere. And I have to tell you, Shand isn’t happy with Llian.”
“You just said he was framed!”
“It’s what Shand says he did beforehand that’s the problem.”
“What?” said Karan.
Lilis did not reply, but took her to a large but ramshackle timber house in a tree-lined street. Karan spent the time fretting. Yggur was a difficult man, and even when they had been allies years ago they had not got on. She was not looking forward to seeing him again.
They went through a series of connecting chambers of varying sizes and shapes. There was no hall, and rooms appeared to have been added randomly as the need arose. The owners must have grown wealthier over time though
, for the rooms towards the back were larger and grander.
In a square high-ceilinged chamber that looked out on a stable and an overgrown rear yard, Tallia sat wrapped in blankets, her chair pulled close to a rusty iron firebox in the centre of the room. She was thinner than Karan had ever seen her, and shivering though the room was warm.
“I thought you were better,” said Karan.
Tallia tried to smile but could only manage a spasm. “Infection keeps coming back. I’ve never been so weak.”
“I’d hoped you could…” Karan stopped herself.
“What?” said Tallia.
“I don’t want to add to your burdens.”
“A Magister has to carry the burden, whatever it is.”
“I’d hoped you might help me… rescue Llian.”
Tallia mouth spasmed again. “If I can.”
The back door opened and a very tall man entered, limping on his right leg. His hair was long and black as crow feathers; frosty eyes were set in deep sockets under jutting black eyebrows, and his face was all hard planes and sharp angles. He saw Karan, missed a step, gave her a jerky nod and continued across to the far side of the room, where he sat in a corner, his head lowered.
Karan stared after him. Knowing about Yggur’s breakdown, she had not expected much from him, though surely some recognition that they were in this together was in order.
Another man entered. He was almost as tall, but ancient and withered to strips of muscle and sinew stretched over a collection of clicking bones. His bald head was a dome and his eyes were clouded, though a spark lit in them when he saw Karan standing there. He smiled and took her hands in his.
“Very pleased to see you, my dear,” said Nadiril, the Librarian of the Great Library at Zile. “Ah, but Llian. Not good at all.”
Nadiril always looked as though he was clinging to the underside of death’s trapdoor, but he was a kindly man who had been good to her and Llian in the past. She felt better for knowing he was here.
Shand followed, grim of face, and glowered when he saw her. What was the matter? What had Llian done?