Godless World 1 - Winterbirth

by Brian Ruckley

  As he rode past the workgang, a few grimy faces were lifted towards him. They probably knew who he was. He thought he caught a glimpse of hatred, of unsubdued arrogance, in some of those sullen visages. The perversity of their silent defiance now, after they had shown so little appetite for the defence of their city, annoyed Kanin. Had he not been about other business, he might have paused and ordered the punishment of those who looked at him most directly. As it was, one of the guards barked a command and the workers returned to their labours.

  They went out into the fields. As they drew closer to the sprawling expanse of deerhide tents that the White Owls had thrown up, Kanin could see that there were more than the three hundred or so warriors his scouts had last reported. It was an uncomfortable thought, that so many would flock to Aeglyss.

  Grey eyes followed them as they made their way towards the centre of the camp. They found Aeglyss there in the yard of a great farmhouse. Part-fortified in the style favoured by some of Anduran's wealthy farming families, the building was the hub around which the Kyrinin company had arrayed itself. The stock animals had fled, or been rounded up by Kanin's foraging parties. One at least must have remained, though, for they found Aeglyss seated with a group of Kyrinin beneath the gutted, flayed carcass of a cow strung up on a wooden frame. Everywhere that Kanin looked, individual Kyrinin were sitting in silence as others pricked their faces with long, fine thorns bearing dye. Across the skin of scores of faces, dark blue whorls were emerging amongst tiny beads of blood. As they approached, Aeglyss rose to his feet.

  'What are they doing?' asked Kanin, looking around distastefully.

  Aeglyss followed his gaze. 'Kin'thyn. There can be no going back now.' A mirthless smile tweaked at the corner of Aeglyss' lips. 'You would not understand, of course. Well, Bloodheir, this is the harvest of all that we set in motion. There is to be war on the Fox, such as there has not been in generations.'

  Kanin stared at the na'kyrim in incredulity. 'War on the Fox?' he cried.

  Aeglyss appeared oblivious of the Bloodheir's mood. 'You are watching a terrible history being forged here. These warriors are being honoured without yet having earned the honour. Not one of those you see being marked can return from Fox lands without drawing the blood of an enemy. So many have not gone to war since before there were Bloods; and every one of them must kill. We are unleashing a storm.'

  Kanin swung himself rigidly out of the saddle. It took an effort of will to unlock his fingers from the reins, and to restrict himself to a single pace towards Aeglyss. Something in his manner or movement was enough to at least send a flicker of doubt across the na'kyrim's brow.

  'Three White Owls were killed by the river, by Fox,' Aeglyss said. 'There must be payment for that. I have . . . convinced them that we must seize the moment, now when so many spears are gathered together, to strike a blow the Fox will never forget.'

  'And you think I care about any of this?' hissed Kanin.

  'Well. . . the White Owls could not be here in such numbers if you had not broken Anduran. They...'

  Kanin took another, longer stride forwards. Aeglyss fell silent. The Bloodheir was distantly aware that a stillness was spreading out around them; Kyrinin heads were turning, eyes were settling upon them.

  'Your wights should be marching south,' he said. 'They should be in Anlane, lying on the flank of any advance against us, not disappearing into the Car Criagar to settle old scores with the Fox.'

  'It's hardly fitting for a scion of the Gyre Bloods to belittle the settling of old quarrels,' muttered Aeglyss, but the uncertainty in his voice undercut the pointed words.

  Without taking his eyes off the na'kyrim, Kanin made a sweeping gesture with his arm. He heard horses moving in response. His Shield were spreading themselves in a loose arc around him.

  'What happened at the Falls?' he demanded.

  Aeglyss looked away at once, a brief dart of his eyes to the ground and back. It was enough to convince Kanin that whatever came next would be a lie, or a half-truth at best.

  'Inurian died. The others -- we do not know. We found Inurian alone. The others were gone, up into the mountains.'

  'What others?' pressed Kanin. Another step closer to the halfbreed. Some of the nearest of the White Owls were standing up. They appeared relaxed, detached observers, but Kanin could not be sure. Aeglyss shrank a fraction away from the Bloodheir. He was almost backed up against the suspended carcass of the cow.

  'Did you leave off the pursuit as soon as you had the halfbreed?' Kanin said. 'Was the boy there? Kennet's son, from Kolglas?'

  Aeglyss spread his hands. 'I don't know that.' His voice held Kanin for a moment. It was inside the Bloodheir's head, stilling in just that fraction of a second all the fires burning there; a cooling whisper. 'There were others, but I couldn't say if the boy was amongst them. I'd've gone on if I could, but the White Owls would not.'

  And Kanin could not move. His mind drifted, turning in idle circles. All the anger that had been in him was forgotten, and all he could think was, Yes. Of course.

  'I doubt the White Owls would turn back if you had wished otherwise,' came Shraeve's voice, sharp, precise and cold.

  It cut through to Kanin, piercing the clouds that surrounded him. He struck Aeglyss in the face with the back of his hand, and all of his resurgent fury went into the blow. The na'kyrim reeled against the butchered corpse of the cow, and tumbled away to the side. He fell heavily and rolled on to his back. His hands were half-raised to ward off further blows. There was blood on his lips.

  Kanin went for his sword.

  'Lord,' said Igris softly but insistently.

  Kanin looked up and saw the thickening of the White Owl crowd around them. Silently, Kyrinin were edging forwards. Half of them bore freshly inscribed tattoos upon their faces, blood and dye mixing on their pale skin.

  'No need to test the woodwights on this, perhaps,' suggested Shraeve. 'We do not know how they regard him.' The Inkallim remained placidly seated on her horse, her hands resting lightly on the animal's neck. She gave Kanin a slight, wry smile.

  The Bloodheir released his sword with a curse. He straightened his back and shouted across the yard.

  'I am done with this one. He is nothing to me now, and nor are any promises he made to you. If he made them in my name, he lied.'

  At his feet, Aeglyss was groaning, garbled words flailing in his bloodied mouth.

  'He is a dog,' Kanin shouted. 'Less than a dog. Do you understand? Who here speaks my tongue? Who speaks for you?'

  The Kyrinin did not stir. Their grey eyes were fixed on Kanin, but none responded. There was no flicker of understanding or interest, just those passive, inhuman eyes.

  'Dogs!' Kanin cried and swept up into his saddle.

  They returned to Anduran in silence. Heavy skies weighed down upon the earth. Kanin could feel the dark mood that had settled over the warriors who accompanied him. He regretted losing his temper as he had, especially over one such as Aeglyss. But the loss of Anyara, and now it seemed of her brother as well, plagued him. And the halfbreed had dared to play with his thoughts... that was intolerable.

  At length, against his better judgement, he said to Shraeve, 'I should have rid myself of him long ago.'

  'Perhaps,' she said.

  Her apparent indifference re-ignited the embers of his anger briefly.

  'It would not have come to this if your ravens had done their work properly at Kolglas in the first place.'

  'Nor if your fine warriors had managed to escort a young girl from gaol to castle without mishap.'

  Kanin caught himself just in time as he made to reply. Whatever momentary release it might provide, trading insults with Shraeve would do little good. He was a Thane's son, but even that did not put him beyond reach of an Inkallim blade. They had killed more than a few of the powerful over the years. Always in the interest of the creed, of course.

  Kanin found Cannek in the stables of Castle Anduran. The Hunt Inkallim had seen fit to install their dogs there
. Cannek and two of his comrades were squatting amongst the straw, feeding the great beasts scraps of meat. Kanin had to suppress his instinctive wariness of the creatures. The hounds of the Hunt were almost as ruthlessly trained as the Inkallim themselves were, to track and kill humans. Kanin himself had seen a dozen of the Hunt and their dogs raid a Tarbain village in his family's lands, in punishment for cattle-thieving. It had been a spectacle to make even the most hardened of warriors uneasy.

  Cannek glanced up as the Bloodheir approached. He scratched the thick neck of the nearest dog, working his fingers underneath its collar. The animal had fixed its soulless eyes on Kanin and there was a low rumble in its throat.

  'He means you no harm,' the Inkallim said.

  'I want to know how the pursuit of the Lannis girl goes,' Kanin said.

  Cannek rose to his feet. His knees cracked disconcertingly as he did so. He brushed straw from his leather trousers.

  'I have not heard anything. But you need not concern yourself. Two of our finest are on the trail. They will not give up so easily as the White Owls did.'

  Kanin grunted. 'I am beginning to mistrust the promises of others regarding the Lannis-Haig Blood,' he said stiffly.

  'Really. Your discussions in the Kyrinin camp did not go well?'

  'I'm sure Shraeve will give you a detailed account if you ask it of her. Where did the trail go, after the Falls on the Snow?'

  Cannek shrugged. He made even that simple movement seem considered and precise. 'Up and into the Car Criagar. That is all I know, Bloodheir, and more than I need. As I told you, the best of us are following the scent. They will not return until their quarry is dead.'

  Two of the dogs suddenly snapped at each other, unleashing a volley of snarls. Their jaws worked with a clattering of teeth. Kanin could not help but take a half-step away.

  'Can I be of any more help to you, Bloodheir?' Cannek enquired.

  Kanin left with a mute shake of his head. He had made a decision, and there was no point in delaying its consequences. He was tired, after so many days of little sleep and constant tension, but he knew he could expect no rest. If Kennet's offspring made for Koldihrve -- and they would surely have to, with Hunt Inkallim on their backs and the White Owls intent on flooding the forests of the Car Criagar with strife -- that town was the key. Kanin knew nothing of the place save where it lay -- the mouth of the Vale of Tears -- and that it was a foul nest of masterless men and woodwights. But it was on the shore, and therefore had boats. It was the only possible way he could see that the Lannis-Haig rats could escape from this trap. Kanin meant to reach it before them.

  He knew it was a rash decision, but it felt right in a way few of his decisions had in recent days. Despite all the triumphs since they had marched south, despite the victories at Kolglas, at Grive and Anduran, he felt as if events were spiralling away from him. Aeglyss and his White Owls had certainly spun out of his control, if they had ever been within it; the Inkallim seemed like little more than amused spectators; and all that he and Wain had won still could not be held unless the other Bloods of the Black Road came to their aid.

  The one clear and certain thing he could see before him, the only need that he could answer directly, was that there was unfinished business with the family of Croesan oc Lannis-Haig. If he put an end to the Lannis line, nothing that came after could rob him of that. And he would have succeeded where the Inkallim had failed. They, for all their vanity, had let a mere youth slip through their fingers at Kolglas. To be the one who put right that mistake would be a small revenge for their betrayal of the Horin-Gyre Blood at the battle in the Stone Vale all those years ago.

  Wain came to him while he was sitting with his captains, making final arrangements for the supplies his company would need. Something in her face made him dismiss the others before she had even spoken. She sat in a chair at his side.

  'Messengers have come,' she said, looking down at the surface of the table. 'Tanwrye still holds, but the land between here and there is subdued. They can spare us some of their strength: a hundred horse will be here in a day, twice as many spears in another two or three. Mostly our own, a few of Gyre.'

  'These are good tidings...'

  'The messengers brought other news,' she cut him off. 'Our father . . . died on the first day of winter.'

  Kanin bowed his head. He had known this moment must come - had already said his farewells - but still it caught him a fraction unprepared, as was in the nature of such things. It would be a long time now before he saw his father again. The world itself would have to die and be reborn before that could happen.

  And would it be wrong to see a sign in this? The lives of men and women were nothing in the vast movement of fate, yet there could be pattern - meaning - in their interplay. Nothing happened by chance. Word of his father's death came on the eve of a journey to finish what was started in his name. There might be significance in that.

  Wain was watching him. 'You are Thane now,' she whispered. 'Do not go into the Car Criagar. Your place is here.'

  'No, Wain. Would you make me a liar to our father? When I meet him again in the renewed world, I don't want the first thing I tell him at the start of that second life to be that I failed our promise to him. Without their deaths, everything that we hold now will be taken away again. Others might forget, but so long as even one of their line remains, they will never stop trying to recover this land. The Thane is the Blood. You know that.'

  'You should be proclaimed as Thane,' she said. 'We must...'

  'When I come back. Not until then.' For once, he was the firmer. 'I will not be away for long. And you know as well as I that I am not truly needed here. This army is yours to lead as much as it is mine. I and my fifty warriors would make no difference in whatever you may face in my absence: we always knew that all of this would come to nothing if the other Bloods did not march to our aid in the end,' he said. 'If it is to nothing that we are headed, so be it, but I will not go there without at least trying to finish with Lannis-Haig.'

  He picked up the fragile vial of Anduran's dust that lay on the table and held it out to her.

  'I was going to send this to our father. Send it to Ragnor oc Gyre instead. Tell him that the Horin-Gyre Blood holds the Glas valley for him, and awaits his return to claim what is his.'

  She smiled faintly, and he planted a soft kiss upon her forehead.

  IV

  'INURIAN IS DEAD, then,' Yvane said, after she was told all that had happened.

  'We are not certain,' said Orisian.

  'I think you know it as well as I do,' the na'kyrim said. 'And I do know it.' She was staring into the fire, stirring it with a stick. Embers danced upwards.

  The chamber lay at the end of a short passageway; it was warm and close. Without Yvane to guide them they might not have found it. She had brought them to the base of the cliffs that soared above the ruins, led them clambering over a mass of huge boulders up to a flat platform deep in the shade of the rock face and into the narrow opening of the tunnel that brought them here.

  The na'kyrim had brewed an infusion of herbs while they told her their stories. They passed it around and each took a few heartening sips. The fire crackled between them and the entranceway. Crude figures had been painted on the walls. The abstracted forms of animals and people processed across the stone, given life by the flickering firelight. The wind moaned across the cave's mouth.

  When he thought he could do so without being noticed, Orisian examined their host. Yvane had the same part-Kyrinin features he had come to recognise in Inurian, though her eyes were still more unlike a human's than his had been. Her hands and fingers seemed every bit as lean and long as Ess'yr's. They bore calluses here and there, the legacy of hard years amongst the rocks of the Car Criagar. That time had left its imprint upon her face, too. Her skin was weathered, roughened to a coarser grain than he would have expected in a na'kyrim. Her short hair had the sheen of a Kyrinin's but it was a reddish brown: a shade that could only have come from her Huanin
parent. Had she been human, Orisian would have guessed that she was well into her fifth decade of life; since she was na'kyrim, he knew she must be older.

  'Stay rockside of the fire,' she said. 'The smoke is drawn out through the passageway. And it's best to keep the flames between you and any visitors.'

  'What kind of visitors?' demanded Rothe.

  'Huanin, Kyrinin, animals. Bears,' she flashed the shieldman a harsh smile that had barely formed upon her lips before it was gone again. 'In winter it's bears scavenging here; in summer, your people from the valley. Treasure hunters and boys who think they're men because they've got some hair on their crotch. They scare off more easily than the beasts do.'

  'Not all of us,' muttered Rothe.

  Yvane gave no sign that she had heard, continuing to probe at the fire.

  'Inurian said you would help us get safely away from here,' Anyara said.

  The na'kyrim gave a soft laugh. 'You Huanin are so hasty,' she said. She waved the smouldering stick at Ess'yr and Varryn. 'See, your Kyrinin friends are perfect guests. They are still, and quiet, saving talk until host and visitor have taken the measure of one another.'

  'I did not mean any offence,' said Anyara, neatly blending contrition and irritation in her tone.

  Yvane shrugged. 'None was taken,' she said. 'Some Kyrinin make poor guests as well. For children of the God Who Laughed, they can be rather dour.'

  No flicker of a response crossed the faces of Ess'yr and Varryn.

  'I imagine your Fox friends are less than comfortable here,' Yvane mused. 'They tell foolish stories about me in their camps. Talking with the dead and the like.'