“Yvane ever thought in such ruts,” someone said — Orisian was not sure who, though the voice was male.
Cerys smiled briefly, sadly.
“Will you come with me, Thane? Being in this room gives me a cruel headache. Perhaps fresher air is what we need.”
He followed her willingly, glad to leave the tight confines of the Dreamer’s chamber. Rothe’s relief when he saw them emerge was evident. The big shieldman fell in close behind Orisian, who gave him a reassuring smile. The Elect made no protest at Rothe’s presence.
He expected that Cerys would lead them back down, through the huge keep and into the passages and chambers cut into the rock of the mountain like the tracks of maggots in an apple. Instead, they climbed. A stone spiral of steps carried them up and disgorged them, unexpectedly, onto the keep’s roof.
The wind blasted away all memory of the airless chamber where Tyn lay. It tugged at Orisian’s hair and jacket, snapped the Elect’s long, heavy dress about her legs. Orisian closed one eye and twisted his head away from the gale. Clouds were surging along overhead, layer upon layer of them flowing across the sky, a turbulent flood of vapours and mists. The convolutions and complexities of Highfast tumbled away beneath them: walls and buildings and battlements spilling down from the keep to crowd the peak.
Cerys, though, led them around the low crenellations to the keep’s eastern edge. Holding her hair back from her face, she glanced at Orisian and then gestured out into the void. He leaned cautiously out and looked down. The sheer wall towered over a deep and wild gorge. The cliff faces beneath were precipitous; impregnable. Further out, ranks of jagged, craggy summits jostled to fill the horizon. Pennants of cloud, or perhaps powdery snow, were streaming out from the highest of them: fierce winter flags. Orisian could see not a single tree, no sign of life at all, save one. A great flock of crows was jousting with the wind beneath him. The black birds flashed to and fro, spinning and sweeping in the gale that roared down the gorge. They were like dark flecks of ash flung into the air by a furious fire. Some of them appeared to be disappearing into — and others emerging from — openings in the cliff far below.
Rothe, at Orisian’s side, looked over the battlements, but shrank back almost at once. He gently pulled his Thane back, too.
“Inurian had a crow,” Orisian said — loudly, against the wind — to Cerys.
The Elect nodded. “Many of us do, here. It’s a tradition, all the way back to Lorryn.” It seemed to Orisian that she did not need to shout as he did. Her voice reached him despite the raging air all about them. She looked out, let her gaze swing over the mountains and up to the seething clouds.
“This an old place, Thane; an ancient place, ringed about by ancient fears. It’s a fitting home for na’kyrim, don’t you think?” When Orisian said nothing, she looked at him. “I think you are a little disappointed with what you have found here.”
It did not sound to Orisian like a question, so he did not reply. The Elect seemed neither angry nor offended.
“Any who choose to live in a place as hard as this must have something to fear, you might think; something driving them, nipping at their heels. And not just here. Where else can you find my kind? Dyrkyrnon, where dry land’s rarer than a wise Thane; Koldihrve, out on the edge of everything. We are afraid. Of course we are. Na’kyrim know fear as well as we know our own shadows. Come.”
She led them into the lee of a turret at the corner of the roof. It took the edge off the cold, though the wind still howled, scouring the stone of the keep.
“In Inurian,” Cerys said, “you knew the best of us. He was master of his fear. Or rather, his curiosity mastered his fear, and him. He was, in the end, more interested in what lay beyond these walls than whatever safety might be found within. We who remain sequestered here are not the same as he was. You might think that a failing, but we cannot be other than we are. Other than the world has made us.”
“I would not ask you to be,” Orisian cried into the gale.
“Whether malice moves her tongue or not, Yvane is right. We are all afraid of Aeglyss, and of what his presence in the world might presage. If men decide that na’kyrim are once again a danger, there are too few of us, and we are too feeble, to do anything other than die meekly or flee. If the Anain decide they mislike the course of events, there’s no one who could obstruct their will, no matter how strange or heartless its exercising. And if Aeglyss can master the possibilities of what he is becoming, rather than being destroyed by them, we might all be wading through the blood of the slaughtered before long. Do you know what is truly different about him, Thane? Do you understand why we — and you — should find him worthy of our fear?”
Orisian waited for her to give him the answer.
“Because he is an old thing,” the Elect shouted above the wind’s roar. “Something none of us have seen in our lifetimes. He is a na’kyrim so potent, so immersed in the Shared, that he, perhaps alone amongst us all, need not be afraid. Think! What kind of monstrosity must he be, for the Anain themselves to take notice of him? He may not have realised it himself yet, may not have understood what he is, but all of us here can feel it, in our hearts and in our minds. He is the first of our kind in more than three hundred years who might make himself the father of fear, rather than its child.”
She held out a hand towards him. He hesitated for only the briefest of moments, then reached out and grasped it. The Elect’s eyes narrowed a fraction; her lips tightened. Orisian felt a faint and distant flutter of warmth run across the palm of his hand.
“You feel that?” Cerys asked him.
“Something.”
She released him. “You — your race — might be deaf and blind to the Shared, but that does not mean you are beyond its reach. If you were, I could not make you feel even that faint touch. There will be many, not just na’kyrim, whose sleep is disturbed by bad dreams now. There will be many whose minds become tinged with an anger not entirely their own.
“No creature whose head holds thoughts is truly separate from the Shared. Some believe it is the very stuff of which your mind is made. That is the country over which Aeglyss casts his shadow. That is where the Anain are rising.” She sighed. “It is not only us poor na’kyrim who have things to fear in these times, Thane. Aeglyss is poisoning the well from which we all draw our thoughts, our desires. We na’kyrim are just the first to catch the taste of it.”
On that wind-battered rooftop, with dark clouds rushing overhead and the cries of crows echoing in the bleak gorge, Orisian had a momentary sense of the world as a savagely hostile place. Cerys spoke of things he barely understood, yet for that moment he did not doubt that she was right. Terrible darkness could descend. It was possible, in a world such as this, for horror to be piled upon horror; for even the suffering he had already witnessed to be exceeded. He looked away from the na’kyrim ’s earnest face. Rothe was standing close by, watching in silence. Orisian shivered.
“Can you tell me how to oppose him, then?” he asked Cerys.
“Only in part,” the Elect said. “Perhaps by warning you of the dangers, we can arm you against them in some small way. And there is Eshenna. Talk with her. She believes… I cannot say whether she is right or not, but she believes there is something that might be done; chinks in Aeglyss’s armour.”
Orisian nodded.
“You may find her more like the Inurian you remember,” Cerys observed as she led him back towards the stairwell. “She is not yet beset by fear, nor bereft of curiosity about the world. But remember that she is young, by our reckoning. Impetuous. And she remembers Aeglyss. Her thinking is coloured by that.”
Highfast sank into another winter twilight as if it was going home, returning to the stuff of which it was made. The gale subsided, clouds congregated and breathed a fine mist across the fortress. Darkness mustered around the turrets and battlements, drifted down the flanks of the towers, pooled in its deep courtyards. The last few crows called out as they descended invisibly out of the night sky
towards their roost.
Orisian, Rothe and Yvane walked in silence through the labyrinth of sombre passageways. A torch-bearer lit their way, chasing the shadows ahead of them. In their wake, the dark swept back in, tumbling always at Orisian’s heels.
Their guide pushed open a door for them and stood to one side.
“I’ll wait out here, to light your way back,” he said.
Within, they found Eshenna alone in a long, narrow dormitory. She sat on one of the beds, hands resting in her lap. In the tinted light of a single oil lamp, she might almost pass for human, Orisian thought. She stood when he entered, nodded. She looked nervous. He gestured for her to sit down again. He and Yvane sat on the bed opposite her. Rothe waited near to the door.
Orisian did not know whether bringing Yvane had been wise, but he wanted her help in navigating these waters. There was too much here that was unfamiliar and unknown. Yvane was no replacement for Inurian, but she was the closest thing he had to an interpreter.
“You know Aeglyss?” he asked Eshenna, and she nodded gravely.
“I wake every morning with the taste of anger in my mouth, the sound of hatred ringing in my ears. If I close my eyes now, I can feel his bile seeping into my mind. I know Aeglyss. I know this is him.”
“Tell me who he is,” Orisian said.
“He was a savage child.” Eshenna spoke with feeling. “Not in deeds, so much, but in words, and in instincts. Spiteful. He suffered a great deal before he reached Dyrkyrnon. Many of us did, but most overcame those memories, or learned to live with them. He… treasured them, almost. He could not separate himself from what had happened to him, what had happened to his parents. The past weighed heavily on him.
“He told us that his father was a warrior of the Black Road, and that the White Owls killed him for loving a Kyrinin woman. His mother died, frozen or starved, on the northern edge of the marshes. She had fled from the clan with Aeglyss when they decided to kill him too. So he told the story, at least.”
“But he didn’t stay in Dyrkyrnon,” Orisian said.
“He did for some years, but he was cast out. He inflicted many small cruelties, and some not so small. A girl…” Eshenna winced at the memory. “One girl in particular, Aeglyss desired. She was cold to him, as many of us were, but her coldness pained him in a different way. Much sharper. He would not — could not, I suppose — accept it, or ignore it. It ate away at him. One day he was found, alone in the marsh, crouching by a pool, staring down into the water. He was watching the girl. She was in there, under the surface, on her back. Mouth open. Drowning, without struggling.
“They hauled her out, and managed to save her. Aeglyss never said anything about it, not a word. The girl claimed not to remember what had happened. Whether that was true or not, she was never happy again; she never slept well, or laughed without a shadow in her voice. Everyone knew Aeglyss had… made it happen. Even then, the Shared had woken in him more strongly than some of us could understand. Everyone was afraid of what he might do, so they cast him out.”
“Would have spared us all some trouble if they’d just killed him,” muttered Yvane.
“I think there were some who wanted to. But he was sent away. No one in Dyrkyrnon ever heard of him again, as far as I know.”
“Until now, I imagine,” Yvane grunted. “I dare say he’s back on their minds now.”
Eshenna nodded. “They’ll not act against him, though, if they can help it. Dyrkyrnon’s like Highfast in that: they want no dealings with the wider world, in case it should decide to have dealings with them.”
“Well, I’ll act against him,” said Orisian. “Everyone tells me he’s a terrible danger, and I believe it, but no one’s told me yet what I can do about it. Cerys said you might.”
“Perhaps.” She glanced from Orisian to Yvane and back again. “There was a woman at Dyrkyrnon — K’rina — who took Aeglyss as her ward, when he first came there. She raised him, and loved him despite all his faults. For some of our kind, you know, our childlessness is a great sorrow. So it was for K’rina. She took Aeglyss as her child. It broke her heart when he was cast out.”
She hesitated.
“And…?” Orisian prompted her.
“I know K’rina well. I cared for her, for a time, after Aeglyss left. Now, she is moving. She has left Dyrkyrnon, Thane. She is going to Aeglyss.”
“You’re certain of that?” Yvane asked quietly.
“It is part of my waking into the Shared. I can sometimes follow the trails left in it by the passage of familiar minds, sometimes trace the outline of distant thoughts. Just as I know, without doubt, that it is Aeglyss whose stench now fouls everything, so I know that K’rina has heard his cry, and will go to him. And he seeks her; longs for her.”
Eshenna’s confidence was forceful, and convincing, but it still left Orisian uncertain. He glanced at Yvane, whose expression was grave and thoughtful.
Eshenna leaned forwards a little. “It’s a slender hope, but better than no hope at all. The last time I sought her, I could not draw near, so violent were the powers churning about her. She is important. To Aeglyss certainly, perhaps therefore to us. So I thought…”
Her voice trailed away. She was watching Orisian expectantly, hopefully.
“What is it you’re suggesting, then?” he asked her. “That we take her?”
“Yes. She was the only one who could ever talk to him. When he was enraged, she could calm him. She could scold him without earning his hatred. She was the only one — the only one alive — whom he ever loved, as far as I know. He needs her. So take her, and hold her. Make her our ally, not his. Use her against him.”
Orisian stared down at the floor. There were dark stains in the seams between the flat stones: mould, or some kind of rot. The stones themselves had a dull gleam, polished by the usage of centuries. He longed for certainty, for clarity. He longed for the lost days when his choices bore consequences of no more weight than parchment. And he longed for the time before this bitter, cruel strand entered his thoughts; the strand that wondered if this woman K’rina could be used to hurt Aeglyss. He looked at Yvane. She was watching Eshenna, but clearly sensed Orisian’s gaze.
“Perhaps,” she breathed, reluctant and heavy-hearted. “There is no na’kyrim in the world, that I know of, who could match what Aeglyss is becoming. None who could force his submission. You need more subtle weapons to oppose him, I think. Perhaps, if he remembers this woman.. if he is vulnerable to her… she might be a wedge to open up some crack in him.” She shrugged. “If you hold something precious to your enemy, it gives you some power over him. Isn’t that the way these things work?”
Orisian stood up and went to the shuttered window. He could hear the night breezes rubbing themselves over the rock of Highfast. Putting a hand against the ancient wood of the shutters, he could feel the cold of the darkness without.
“Where is she?” he asked without looking round. “Do you know?”
“Less than two days away, I think,” Eshenna said. “East of here, a little south. He’ll have her soon, if nothing is done.”
“Close, then,” said Orisian softly. He was not sure, but he thought he could hear rain falling.
“Yes. I believe so.”
Orisian turned about and regarded the two na’kyrim women.
“You would come, if I went to find this woman? Both of you? I would need you, Eshenna, to find her.”
“Of course.” He could see her eagerness, even though she kept it on a short leash. As Cerys had said, this one was not yet afraid, not yet finished with the world outside.
“I suppose so,” muttered Yvane. “Not much to keep me here. Hammarn’ll stay, though. He likes it. Found his home, I think.”
Orisian was already making for the door. “I need to talk to Herraic. I’ll send word, Eshenna, when I know what is to happen.”
Orisian’s mind was in turmoil as he followed his torch-bearing guide. Rothe, striding along at his side, looked worried.
“You
mean to chase after this woman, then?” the shieldman asked.
“Maybe. If Aeglyss wants her… needs her, even. Maybe.”
“The battle might be done, before we reach Kolglas,” Rothe muttered. He sounded disappointed; worried.
“It might. But this need only take us a handful of days. What if they’re right, Rothe? What if Aeglyss is really our greatest enemy?” Orisian came to an abrupt halt and turned, taking hold of Rothe’s arms, staring into the big man’s face. “Inurian feared him. Yvane, all of them here. They all say the same. And I never knew Inurian to be wrong about someone, Rothe. Never.”
He wanted — needed — Rothe’s support. It was, in fact, almost approval that he sought here. No Thane should require such a thing from a shieldman, but perhaps he could seek it from a true friend, one he trusted more than anyone else.
“I’m no use to Taim Narran, no use to anyone, on a battlefield, Rothe. Do you understand? He’s what our Blood needs there. But I’m here, and this is something I can do. Something that might be important. More important, even.”
Rothe did not look wholly convinced. But he nodded, just once, and that was enough.
They found Herraic deep in conversation with two of his men, outside their barracks. The portly Captain of Highfast had the jittery air of a man besieged by events. He drew Orisian aside as soon as they walked up.
“Thane, Thane. Good. I hoped to speak with you this evening. Some surprising news, I’ve had.”
“In a moment,” Orisian said. “Will you answer me a question first?”
“Of course.”
“You told me when I arrived here that half your men had gone eastwards. Rumours of Kyrinin, you said?”
Herraic nodded, clearly puzzled that the activities of his tiny garrison should be of interest to a Thane.
“Yes, sire. There’re a handful of woodsmen and hunters in the forests to the east of the Peaks. Word came from one or two of them that there had been signs of wights moving. A couple of trappers have even gone missing, supposedly.” He shrugged. “Not seen White Owls on our borders for many years. Still, people said there were warbands moving south. I’d’ve thought there would have been more trouble reported if it was true, but It seemed best to look into it, foolish though it sounds.”
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