The Swordsman's Oath

by Juliet E. McKenna

  I had to duck my head to enter the sally port, looking doubtfully at the crumbling stonework of the lintel. The courtyard was surprisingly clear of undergrowth; the pale lines of the shingle paths showed faintly through a blur of low level weeds. As I crushed them underfoot the scents of thyme and pennymint rose sharply around me, dizzying me with the ever present threat of D’Alsennin’s memories. The roof of the hall had fallen in but the walls still stood four square and defiant, fine-dressed stone still visible through the stains of age and decay. I took a deep breath to clear my mind of the shadowy image of the place as it had been.

  The hall’s tall, stone-mullioned windows had been glowing with lamplight when Temar had last seen them, the harmonies of the Maitresse’s harp floating above the noise of the court-yard, guests’ horses being stabled now the colony had sufficient beasts to let people ride the young stock. The kitchens, set to one side of the hall, had been bustling with activity, the two new maids busy fetching and carrying through the covered walkway, giving as good as they got when the outdoor men had whistled and teased them, begging for a mouthful or, better yet, a taste of honey from their lips. Workshops either side of the gate-house were idle now, tools laid aside after the day’s labor and neatly stowed. The tall gates, newly black with pitch, stood hospitably open, the gate-wards resting on their bench, greeting everyone by name.

  Now all was silent apart from the heavy tread of the mercenaries as they began efficiently clearing the enclosure. Odd words grew into low-voiced conversations as more people arrived.

  “How secure is the wall?” Arest’s voice startled me from Temar’s reverie and I looked around to see him shouting at Minare. “Any breaches worth worrying about?”

  “Not so far!” the mercenary replied, not looking around as he and his lads continued cutting their way through the clinging vines, bright scarlet flowers masking vicious thorns.

  “I think I can determine that for you,” Planir’s voice turned heads all around the enclave. The Archmage stooped through the sally port and laid one long-fingered hand on the dark stone of the jamb. A crackle of amber light danced around his fingers and seemed to vanish into the masonry. “There,” Planir pointed to a section of the wall obscured by masses of leaves hanging down over the top. “A tree has disturbed the foundations and the whole wall is cracked. It’ll probably come down if a heavy-footed owl lands on it.”

  I looked around for Livak at this and saw her auburn hair catching in the evening sun as she clambered over the tangle of fallen beams and timbers that choked the hall. She looked around and saw me, waving with a satisfied smile as she looked down on mercenaries too heavily armored and too clumsy to follow her.

  “How are we going to clear this lot, wizard?” she shouted to Planir.

  “Let me show you.” Otrick appeared from somewhere and a swirl of blue radiance gathered up Livak to carry her bodily through the air and deposit her neatly at my side. White beneath her tan, she clutched at me to steady herself and I was glad of the excuse to put an arm around her and draw her close. “Stuffing wizards,” she muttered shakily, glaring at Otrick with something closer to outright dislike than the wary amusement he usually elicited from her.

  The same azure light was now coming from a couple of other mages as more people crowded into this decayed sanctuary. I realized I was standing with my mouth open as massive balks of rotting wood were lifted out of the hollow hall, floating impossibly to stack themselves neatly beside the weak point Planir had identified in the wall. I was not the only one; all the mercenaries halted to gape at the spectacle and exchange startled looks.

  “Do you reckon any of this lot would take a hire with a decent corps?” Arest jested with a creditable attempt at maintaining his poise. “We could put whoever we liked on the Lescari throne with that kind of help!”

  I made a mental note to try and keep the mercenary commander apart from Kalion, though I had the impression the Hearth-Master would be more inclined to want to deal with Dukes and Princes than the men who kept them in their positions of power. Dressed for once in voluminous breeches, more practical than his usual florid robes, the fat mage was directing one of Tonin’s pupils to lay out his bed roll beneath an awning that two others were erecting with some difficulty. As I watched a couple of mercenaries took the canvas and ropes from the scholars and had the shelter securely rigged inside a handful of moments.

  “The first thing we need is to determine the layout of the town,” Arest turned to address the Archmage in tones that brooked no argument. “We could spend the next couple of seasons clearing thickets and piles of fallen stones and barely scratch the surface.”

  Planir looked at me, gray eyes as unfathomable as the night seas. “You could save us a great deal of time here, Ryshad. Shiv tells me you’ve been seeing the place as Temar knew it.”

  I shot an irritated glare at Shiv, who colored faintly. “I’m sorry, but the Archmage needs to know,” he said apologetically.

  “That might help some, I suppose—” Arest’s skepticism would have annoyed me intensely in any other circumstances, but this was not the time to force any kind of trial of strength or will.

  “I’m not prepared to let D’Alsennin loose inside my head if that’s what you’re hoping, Archmage,” I said curtly. I was having enough difficulty keeping Temar’s intrusive recollections barred securely at the back of my mind as it was.

  Arest continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “—but I’d rather rely on proven magic. We need you wizards to give us the lay of the land as it was when this place was built, to do whatever you can to identify key buildings and places—the market, for instance. That’s where we might find metalwork, even gems, valuables that will have withstood Maewelin’s teeth. You did say we would be entitled to any spoils we found.” The challenge in his demand was unmistakable.

  “I have been telling my colleagues much the same,” agreed Planir peaceably. “Obviously, a priority is the scrying in support of the information Mentor Tonin has culled from his researches; we must locate this cavern as soon as possible, after all, but we will make sure you get every assistance from the mages not directly required at present.”

  “I could help, Archmage, I’m not needed for scrying.” I looked around to see one of the younger wizards, a man a few seasons younger than myself. Dressed in gray with a red-trimmed collar to his jerkin, I recognized him from the Council meeting.

  “Thank you, Naldeth, that would be most helpful.” Planir bowed briefly. “Please excuse me.”

  I followed Naldeth’s eyes and saw he was studying Maraide, the lass with all the glossy brown curls. “Do you know if she’s a follower for anyone in particular?” he asked me, his gaze covetous.

  I have to admit I was finding the reactions of the wizards to the mercenaries more amusing than anything else. The ship had been rife with increasingly lurid speculations in avid undertones as we had sailed to Carif and I recalled Naldeth had been the source of some of the wilder tales of turbulent adventure and limitless wealth, far removed from the truths of life as a sword for hire, as Aiten had told it to me. He’d have found all this highly entertaining, that much I was certain.

  “None of the women in this troop are followers for the foot soldiers or courtesans for the commanders either,” I told the mage firmly. “They’re here for their fighting skills and if you’re interested in anything more I suggest you wait for the lady to indicate an interest. Put a hand wrong and I imagine you’ll be served your stones on a skewer.”

  “Oh.” Naldeth’s face fell, to my relief. That kind of disturbance would do little for the harmony of this expedition and, besides, I’d seen Maraide leaving Planir’s cabin with a discreet air of satisfaction on more than one occasion on the long voyage, when the menace of Temar’s memories had made sleep impossible. Even that passing thought brought new visions of Den Rannion’s steading to the fore, the past and the lost hemming me in on all sides. I blinked and tried to rub away the tenseness in my neck, driving the encroaching recollections a
way with increasing difficulty.

  A series of whistles alerted Rosarn’s troop and I saw them gathering at the sally port, axes and long knives to hand.

  “If you want to help, now’s your chance,” I said to him crisply. “Come on, I want to have a look around for myself.”

  What I really wanted was to quit this place before I lost my grip on present reality all together. As I walked rapidly across the enclosure, Livak hurried to meet us, slipping her hand in mine as she slid me a sideways glance of concern. I squeezed her hand with a reassurance I did not really feel as we listened to Rosarn’s crisp instructions. I stifled a brief longing for the simpler days, when Aiten and I had stood taking our orders with a similar lack of question or personal involvement in our tasks.

  “I want to know exactly where this town starts and ends, and I want to know what state the buildings are in. Look out for snakes and stingers. We’ll all need to know if you see anything so remember color and size. I imagine anything bigger will move itself sharpish once we start making a noise, but be careful in case anything’s laired up in a hollow somewhere. Big Thorfi, you take your section over the way, Clever Thorfi, keep the road to your off hand.”

  “All right if we come along?” I raised a polite hand, trying not to laugh at Rosarn’s distinction between the two men, which was clearly familiar to all the mercenaries. “This is Naldeth, a mage who would like to help.”

  Rosarn nodded. “You’d better come with me, wizard. You’re a sworn man, aren’t you, Ryshad? Then you can pick your own path, but watch your step.”

  We followed the mercenaries out of the crumbling circle of the walls and looked at a seemingly impenetrable mass of plant life smothering the remains of the colony, more shades of green than I could have imagined were possible. To my relief my vision stayed steady, firmly rooted in the present.

  “You two, over there.” Rosarn looked back and waved us to the far side of a creeper-covered hummock as the rest of her troop spread out to examine similar anonymous shapes shrouded in vegetation. Livak drew her sword and slid it under the knotted stems, slicing away a great swath of glossy green to expose the dull gray of weathered stone. At home I would have called it ivy, but here the leaves were long and smooth, dark and secretive. I reached for my own blade then thought better of it; I could do without making any more contact with Temar’s imprisoned mind than I had to.

  “We’re doing this at the wrong time of year,” she commented. “It’d be a lot easier if we could wait until all this died back.”

  “The growing season goes on well into Aft-Autumn here,” I said absently as I reached for a stick to poke into a tangle of orange flowering bushes.

  “Oh.” Livak glanced at me, her eyes uncertain again, before she hacked down another snarl of smothering leaves. I tried to reassure her with a smile and made myself a silent vow to talk to Mentor Tonin when we returned to the encampment. Dast’s teeth, I simply had to get this under control for the sake of my own sanity and any lasting relationship I might have with Livak, never mind Planir’s arcane schemes.

  A strange little slate-colored bird with an odd, fluting cry came fluttering out of the bush, startling us both as its calls of alarm roused its fellows from their perches and the air was suddenly full of flapping bluish wings.

  “Do you think this is a building?” asked Livak when the commotion had died down, her voice determinedly matter-of-fact as she looked at the largely smooth stone face she had uncovered, shockingly pale against the dark green of the vines.

  I rammed my stick into the leaves and it rapped hard on rock. Moving along, I repeated the strike until I was rewarded with a dull, damp thud.

  “I’d say that’s a door or a shutter.” I nodded.

  Livak began cutting away the dense creeper as I looked around to see how the others were doing. Several groups were trying to uncover stonework in much the same way as we were, and the simple sight of decent, dressed masonry, albeit stained and deeply weathered, was starting to make the place look as if there might have once been a town here, even without the benefit of Temar’s memories.

  “It’s a door all right,” said Livak with some satisfaction.

  I tapped the ancient and wormy wood with my stick and felt it give slightly. The handle and hinges were dark stains of corrosion on the wood and windblown soil obscured the bottom edge of the door. This was never going to open again, not while Dastennin was ruling the oceans. Taking a step backward, I lifted my boot and kicked it in, bracing myself on the stonework on either side, not wanting to enter before anything else chose to leave.

  “Shit!” Livak leaped to one side as a flurry of blackbeetles scurried in all directions and I stamped hard on something with far too many legs for my peace of mind.

  “What’s the problem?” shouted Rosarn abruptly from somewhere beyond a nearby thicket.

  “Crawlers,” I yelled. “Nothing to worry about.”

  Livak and I exchanged a rueful grin and peered cautiously into the dim interior, blinking at the contrast to the bright sunlight.

  “There’s a shutter over there,” observed Livak, and I walked around the outside to hammer the crumbling wood inward with my useful stick. This gave some more light, enough to see the ominous downward bulge of what remained of the ceiling and the massive crack running down the back wall.

  “Stay by the door,” I warned Livak as she moved cautiously inside. “That lot could come down at any time.”

  “It’s been there a while. I don’t suppose it’ll choose to fall down today,” she said scornfully as she poked her sword inquisitively among the debris thickly littering the floor.

  I tried to see what she was prodding. “What have you got?”

  “Barrel staves, I’d say, hoops, nails, something that might have been hinges a handful of generations ago. I’d say it was a store of some kind.”

  I frowned and looked around again at the lie of the land. Surely the warehouses had all been closer to the sea as well as to the docks?

  “Anything of interest?” Rosarn appeared at my shoulder and I stood back to let her peer in through the window.

  “Not really.” Livak coughed and a passing breeze carried the damp smells of rot and decay out to us.

  “How about you?” I asked.

  Rosarn held up a small spotted animal, blood clotting its frozen snarl. “Well, if I find a few more of these, I might get a new pair of gloves out of this job, but no, all we’re finding is empty walls and rubbish like this. What I came to tell you is that wizard reckons there are caves in that outcrop over there.” Rosarn looked at me with the faintest suggestion of a teasing smile. “They don’t seem to be big enough to be this cavern you’re looking for but I thought we might make sure there’s nothing dangerous lurking in the bushes. Why don’t you two come with me and we’ll do a little reconnaissance. Maybe I’ll find some more of these,” she added, hanging her scrawny prize on a handy branch.

  Livak grinned at her and after a quick look at the crumbling stonework of the window took the longer way out of the door and around to join us.

  I had no option but to draw my sword to cut down the burgeoning plants as we worked our way beneath the cool shadow of the crag, but to my relief Temar remained locked quiescent in the back of my mind.

  “Here’s something,” Naldeth ducked under a low branch and vanished into a hollow of darkness, Rosarn following him hastily with an oath. “It’s certainly a cave of some sort,” the mage’s voice came back to us, muffled and echoing.

  I pulled the branch aside impatiently, cursing as it sprang back, lashing me with thorny tendrils. “How far back does it go?”

  Livak was ahead of me, slipping past the obstructive tree and reaching into her belt-pouch for her firesteel and a stub of misshapen candle. The yellow light flared in the blackness and showed us a shallow cavern in the rock face. I slapped down Temar’s dislike of such places with an irritated thought.

  “What’s this?” Naldeth spun a ball of magelight around his hand and moved
to the far side of the cave where the reddish illumination struck a whitish gleam out of the gloom. “Bones?”

  My heart started pounding in my chest despite all my efforts to tell myself this could be nothing of significance. I closed my eyes and suddenly saw the last dawn of the colony again, people running, screaming, fleeing the pitiless blades of the Elietimm as they came out of nowhere, gold heads catching the faint sunlight, cutting down the hapless colonists like corn beneath a sickle. Had we left someone behind, taking desperate shelter in a hidden cranny in the rock face, only to die of wounds or thirst?

  “It’s an animal, but I couldn’t tell you what kind,” said Rosarn, mystified.

  My eyes snapped open and the image of slaughter faded into the darkness of the cave.

  “Look at this,” Livak’s tone was one of wonder as she lifted a broad, bulging skull in both hands, as wide as a bull’s but far more rounded. I looked more closely and ran a tentative finger around the one, huge hollow in the middle of the brow.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” I shook my head. “Rosarn?”

  The mercenary woman looked up as she knelt, sorting through the pile of stained and broken bones. “No, never. I’ll tell you something, though. This is a den of some kind. Look, these are chewed, you can see the teeth marks where they’ve been cracked open for the marrow.”

  Livak turned the great skull thoughtfully in her hands.

  “What size would you say something would have to be to bring down a beast this big?”

  “Big enough that I don’t want to meet it,” said Rosarn briskly. “Let’s go.”

  “Is there anything other than bone?” Naldeth was stirring a heap of fragments with a foot. “If we can find a pot or something, I can try and use fire to make it reflect its origins. It’s something I’ve been working on and Planir said—”

  “You shine magelight on it or some such?” Rosarn sounded politely skeptical.

  Naldeth shook his head impatiently. “No, you set it afire and the magelight sometimes reflects things of interest before it consumes the object.”