by J. W. Webb
“Ugh? No—it’s fine. I was feeling a bit forlorn.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I was just going through stuff in my head,” Corin explained. “It’s all a bit of a worry, this gallivanting about...” His stance was stiff and awkward, Shallan noted how uncomfortable he looked.
Shallan nodded. She turned her head, tilted it back slightly, listening to Zallerak’s harpsong still wafting in and out from the lake shore. “It’s a beautiful sound is it not? I wonder at the words though.”
“It gives me the willies.”
“It is strange—yes. Eerie.” Suddenly the music stopped and a watchful silence settled over the orchard. It was quite dark now. Somewhere close an owl hooted twice.
“So where are you off to alone in the dark?” Shallan asked him, whilst wondering why he was still looking so uncomfortable.
“I like being alone particularly after noisy council meetings.”
“And you’ve no doubt attended many.” Shallan’s smile was ironic.
Corin fiddled with his foot, broke another twig and, almost reluctantly turned his full gaze upon her. He noticed how her hair lifted with the breeze, while those dreamy eyes…
“I never got on with Morwellans.”
Shallan chuckled. “You certainly have a way with words.”
Corin looked worried. “I was going to add that you are my first exception—my lady.”
“I’m honoured. Truly.”
“Why did you follow me here? I’m not easy company—not like Tamersane.”
“Who says I desire easy company? Rather I admire strength, Corin an Fol, and I see that strength in your eyes. I would share your company and thoughts. That is all. And I don’t bite.”
“I should hope not,” Corin chuckled. “Care to stroll a while?” He offered her an arm and she obliged with a quirky grin. “What’s the story with that magic horn?” Corin asked after a moment’s silence
“It was a gift from an old friend.”
“A useful one,” Corin smiled but Shallan didn’t respond.
Together they strolled beneath the apples and on through an orange grove. Silon’s gardens seemed endless. They wandered for a time in silence, both wrapped in their thoughts, then on reaching an open field Shallan suggested they turn back, make for the lake shore.
Corin still didn’t know what to say, despite that Shallan appeared relaxed and content on his arm. In thoughtful silence they approached the lake’s surface.
They stopped by the lapping water. Shallan knelt, felt its clean touch, letting the water run through the gaps between her fingers. Corin watched her. He noted how the amber pendant glistened on its chain. He fidgeted and glanced around then picked up a pebble and sent it gliding over the water. It skimmed five times before plunking beneath the surface. Corin was relieved to see that Zallerak had gone. Hesitantly he broke the silence.
“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” Corin said then.
“I would that you didn’t have to.” She reached up with her left hand and traced the length of his scar.
“How did you acquire that?”
“When I served in the Wolves there was an officer who didn’t care for me.”
“I trust you paid him back.”
“With dividends.”
Shallan’s fingers caressed his hair and her face hardened.
“You ride into peril, Corin an Fol,” she said. “Despite that, I wish I was riding with you. Doing something, anything to stop that evil bastard Caswallon.”
You ride into peril…
Corin was shocked hearing those words again after so long. His mind fled back to the hag by the river. He shrugged indifference.
“An occupational hazard, my lady.” Corin’s gaze was fixed on the lake. “Were it down to me,” he told her, “I would sail north with Captain Barin and your father—help defend Car Carranis.”
“You still can—after the desert business. Car Carranis will hold for months.”
Corin didn’t respond. Shallan changed tack.
“Queen Ariane is very beautiful is she not?”
“Indeed she is and courageous too.” Corin was feeling awkward again. He wondered where this was going. He’d never had this trouble with tavern wenches.
“She’s fond of you.”
“We’ve been through some sticky times.” Corin coughed then looked intently at the shadow of a swan preening itself by the far bank.
“I can see why.” Shallan was smiling now. “You don’t share her bed?”
“It’s not like that,” Corin coughed. A bit forward, that question, in his opinion. “Besides I’m a commoner, such a thing would be frowned upon.”
“And that would stop you? I think not.” Shallan smiled. “I also think that you, Corin an Fol, are the most uncommon man I’ve encountered.”
“Certainly I’m confused. Shall we walk on, my lady?”
“Call me Shallan. And yes, lead on.”
More walking in silence. Corin thought of the queen and what she had said only a few hours earlier and the awkwardness grew. If Shallan sensed his discomfort (and surely she did) then she didn’t let on.
They skirted the lake before turning back towards the distant villa. High above, a remote star hung like a diamond, its argent sparkle mirrored in the lake. Corin knew it as Ardemei—the star of hope.
During their sojourn Corin made feeble attempts at conversation. Shallan hardly responded and seemed lost in thought. Corin moped despondently. This beauty was impossible to read. One moment she was smiling and teasing, the next dreamy and remote. Corin cursed his lack of courtly skills. Tamersane would know what to say this woman. Roman would have done too. Why was he so fucking useless?
They reached the place where Zallerak had been playing his harp. From here the track led back up toward the cypress lawns.
It was there by the water that she kissed him.
“I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” Shallan’s voice was husky and a trace of tear stained her right cheek. Corin stood silent as one carved from stone.
“I’m sick of being lonely, Corin an Fol. My country is in ruins and my city sacked. My mother’s dead and my father’s dying—his soul that is. Understand that I’m not usually like this. But I feel so alone tonight.”
“My parents are dead too,” Corin relaxed at last. This woman was his friend. They had something—he wasn’t sure what. “Though now I’m not convinced they were my parents. I don’t know who I am, or rather I’m trying not to discover.” Corin smiled then. “We are two lost children—you and I.”
“But we have found each other, at least for this evening. A brief moment of solace amidst the chaos.”
“Brief indeed. We part on the morrow.”
“Then let us make the most of tonight.”
Corin grinned hearing that— and pulled her close. Gone was his doubt, his awkwardness, his confusion, all replaced by a hunger. A yearning to love and protect this beautiful woman standing beside him. Corin stooped, kissed Shallan long and hard, one hand stroking her hair, the other questing below.
Shallan stiffened. “It’s been a while –”
“For me too.” Corin fumbled with her cloak pin, and freeing it allowed the woollen garment to float to the ground.
Beneath that she wore a russet tunic of fine linen and a calf-length skirt of softest leather, her long legs bare beneath. Corin worked at the laces of the tunic with his left hand while his right went venturing below. Shallan relaxed: she wanted this. Needed this. She laughed and he kissed her again. They fell on the grass, missing the cloak by a yard. Neither noticed.
Shallan moaned as Corin’s probing fingers slid up between her thighs. She deftly unlaced the drawstring of his trousers and smiled as his sex sprang forth.
“Now I see why they call you a longswordsman.”
Corin thought about replying but speech was beyond him. But then it had been awhile come to think of it.
A little while later they lay entwined, their naked bodi
es pale beneath the stars. Neither spoke. Both were lost in deep thought. After a moment Corin fidgeted, grunted and rolled free.
“I’m not happy about leaving you tomorrow.”
“As long as you don’t forget me,” Shallan smiled up at him.
Corin studied her small firm breasts, her athletic body and the moist patch of dark hair between her thighs. He felt his manhood rise again.
“I am in danger of forgetting everything else at the moment. But we had best return, my Lady Shallan. It’s getting late and your father -”
“Will be worried—yes I know.” It was her turn to feel awkward.
“Corin, I’m not usually so…forthright.”
“Me neither,” Corin lied. “Place and time—lack of time. Chemistry. Needs must.”
She chuckled. “I will see you again—won’t I?”
“Yes!” Corin blurted the word out. “Shallan, I know this sounds shallow and contrived coming from a man like me. But…I think I love you, even though we’ve only just met. It’s like I’ve been hit by something profound. A thunderbolt or else a missile. My legs have gone wobbly and I feel queasy inside. I swear I’ll stay loyal to you…whatever.”
“From any other man that would be shallow, ridiculous and woefully inadequate. From you…” Shallan chuckled again. “From you it is pure poetry, Longswordsman.”
They dressed quickly and then started the walk back. It was quite late now and Silon’s lanterns flickered dreamy in the distance. The two walked arm in arm, silent as ghosts. Shallan’s face was pale, her eyes pensive again. Her mercurial mind clouded by sudden doubt. Corin also looked troubled and kept glancing at the bushes. He saw the concern in Shallan’s face.
“What is it—what’s wrong?” Corin asked her.
“Just a familiar feeling. I think someone is watching us. Come on, time to go in.”
Shallan gripped his calloused hand as he led her across the cypress lawns toward the lantern-lit veranda.
As they approached the entrance to the left wing Corin felt the invisible weight of immortal eyes following him across the garden.
He turned slowly.
Vervandi stood there framed by two tall cypress trees, her green dress rising and falling softly in the breeze. Her feet were bare, Corin noticed. Her hair long, wild and free. Almost a shadow, she watched them in silence. She wasn’t smiling.
“Who is that strange woman?” Shallan squeezed his hand in sudden alarm. “Is this place haunted?”
“I don’t know,” Corin lied, wishing his words were true. He turned away, urged Shallan inside. Vervandi said nothing, just watched them go.
“How intriguing,” Shallan whispered as Corin, moody again, led her inside the house. The scent of jasmine was almost overpowering by the door—that and Shallan’s hair. Almost the copper of Vervandi’s but just a touch darker. Beneath the lantern’s glow they could be mistaken for sisters. A strange thought, that, and a troubling one.
Corin opened the door that led through to the hall.
“I must go,” Shallan whispered. She kissed him—softly this time. “Else Silon will set his hounds upon you for fear of my ravishment!”
“Damage already done. Perhaps I could slip into your chamber in an hour or so. I can be discreet when need calls.”
“You will have to be,” she smiled. “And you’ll have to find my room. And I might be asleep by the time you do.”
“I’ll take my chances.” Corin kissed her mouth and they parted without another word. An hour later, and after considerable fumbling and creeping around, Corin an Fol sneaked into Lady Shallan’s chamber next door to her father’s. Happily she wasn’t asleep.
***
Queen Ariane had witnessed her cousin’s quiet departure from the house that evening. She’d seen Corin wander out just before—it wasn’t hard to guess Shallan’s destination. Her cousin was fascinated by the Longswordsman. She was subtle but Ariane had read the signs.
Shallan had won again. Ariane managed a wry smile. That girl was in for a rocky ride. As for herself, Ariane felt no bitterness. Just regret that things hadn’t worked better between Corin and her. And that the fates had been kinder. At least Corin could find love again. As for her…
Ariane knew Corin loved her in one sense. But theirs was a different love, particularly after her pledge to Sensuata. Ariane realised that now. But it wasn’t just that. Almost they were like brother and sister, despite being queen and rogue.
“You’ll miss him,” said a familiar voice beside her. Galed had joined her at the window. Together they’d watched the evening descend on Vioyamis.
“I’ve still got you, Galed,” she smiled at her servant and friend.
“You will always have me, my lady,” he replied. “But I have watched you over the last weeks. I know how much you care about that oaf.”
“You like him too, Galed. Despite your words.”
“He has an ungainly charm, I’ll grant you. Though I fail to see what you ladies see in him—great unwashed lump that he is.”
“Corin is strong,” she answered, “and we’ll need strong men in the days to come.”
Again Ariane thought of Roman. She prayed silently to Elanion that Corin would be safe in the weeks ahead; after all he was so reckless and headstrong.
“He is the toughest man I’ve ever met.” Ariane’s glance had followed the lakeshore to where Zallerak could be seen playing his harp.
You’re a lucky girl, Shallan of Morwella.
“He is tough—especially between the ears,” responded Galed but added quietly,
“I will miss him too.”
Ariane turned, smiled at Galed. Over in the corner Cale was fast asleep, not having made it to his room. The boy had had an exciting day. He lay there a motionless lump—just a crop of ginger tangle showing above the blanket she’d thrown over him. Ariane smiled. She’d big things planned for that one.
***
Vervandi waited in silence as she felt the shadow of her sisters emerging from the gloom behind her. “You risk much with this one.” That was Urdei’s giggly voice. Vervandi turned to see the young blonde-braided girl grinning impishly up at her. “He is interesting though. But is he worthy?”
“Corin is worthy,” answered Vervandi. “Though he tests me.”
“He is a fool!” cackled Skolde. Her withered features showed stark beneath the trees. “He thinks with his groin like all men do. They are all fools!” Her voice trailed off before returning seconds later.
“Has the evil one left?” Urdei enquired of her sisters.
“Yes, Zallerak drove him away this morning. Just as that dopey girl’s horn destroyed his dog-soldiers. Morak’s strength is not yet great enough to confront Zallerak for long,” responded Vervandi.
“But others are coming, sister. Morak’s kin are stirring.” Urdei puffed her cheeks out to look important. “And Old Night’s heinous spawn multiply in their caves beneath the earth.” She giggled. “Don’t rely on that dry stick Zallerak. He also is not what he once was. His power also wanes.”
“Zallerak!” rasped Skolde. “A foolish name. Still, wise is he to keep his true identity hidden from these twitchy mortals. Were they to know…?”
“Corin doesn’t trust him.” Urdei’s eyes were mischievous lamps of cobalt. “But then he’s smarter than the others, more instinctual. For a mortal anyway—they’re all so stupid.”
When her sisters didn’t reply the blonde girl folded her bare arms in front of her chest and blew out in vexed exaggeration. “I’m bored, Vervandi,” Urdei complained to her sister. She stamped her feet on the turf and huffed. “Let us leave this world of stupid men and pathetic moon-gazey women. We three are needed elsewhere.”
“You go,” replied Vervandi. “I’ll join you both soon.”
“Have a care, sister,” Skolde rasped. “Don’t place too much hope in the heart of this man. They are all weak inside!” Scolde’s abrasive voice faded into the night as she and her sister departed. Vervandi watched them go in s
ilence.
She would stay awhile yet to see the first outcome at least. She had staked much in this affair. A cold smile curved her full lips. Let the mortal maiden have her moment, Corin an Fol would have need of her soon.
Trust nothing, Longswordsman—least of all your heart.
A shadow crossed her vision. Vervandi looked above; saw the ethereal face of Elanion, her mother, reflected in the stars. The Goddess’s words echoed across the hillside.
The chosen one must not fail us, daughter. The time draws nigh!
“He won’t,” she answered. “He has Zallerak with him—and Bleyne. This is but the beginning, Mother.”
Then that is well—much depends on this mortal. He is the fulcrum. The nine worlds spin ever faster and the scales of balance rock as the last storm hastens nigh. Your uncle wakens beneath the mountain. And I don’t trust your father either. Oroonin will thwart us if He can in His eagerness for war. He is lurking somewhere near, I can feel His presence. You must tread carefully, daughter!”
The husky voice of Elanion trailed off like distant thunder. Dark clouds scurried occluding the stars. The Goddess had gone. Still Vervandi watched the villa in silence. Let her father shake His spear as He led that ghastly host across the void, forever seeking lost souls to serve Him in the quest for eternal war, while beneath the earth Cul-Saan the First Born stirred in violent answer.
Neither Oroonin nor Old Night would claim the soul of Corin an Fol. That belonged to Vervandi and her sisters. They were the Fates. The deciders.
Urdei: girl child full of hope—the past that should have been. Vervandi: the passion and inspiration of here and now. And Skolde: futility—the future where all things fade to dust in time. Vervandi’s green-gold gaze searched the heavens for her father but saw Him not. I know you’re out there, Crow-gatherer. You’ll not win this one, Father.
***
The Huntsman laughed, hearing His daughter’s words.
You know nothing, child. This is the reckoning. All mortals must side with me against my brother. Living and dead—both shall gather when I call. You children are connivers but no match for me. Only I can see both ways.
From His lofty lodgings in the clouds Oroonin had watched amused as His scheming daughters weaved their intricate webs. Clever little spiders, those three—blood of his blood. More like their mother, though. Beside Him Oroonin’s hounds bayed excitedly, their eyes feverish sensing battle’s commencement. The time was almost here.
