Godblind

by Anna Stephens

  And yet you’ve just paraphrased my exact thoughts on how to win this war. We have to kill Rivil. And then Rastoth is left without an heir.

  ‘Captains, neither of you are to discuss this with anyone – soldier, Watcher, Wolf, civilian. No one, is that clear? The commander and the king must be informed.’

  ‘I expect they would both want to question the only eyewitness we have,’ Tara said, and Mace clearly saw the pulse jump in Crys’s throat.

  ‘Carter’s right. It doesn’t matter how detailed my report, it doesn’t matter if you write the report for me, the commander and the king will have questions. Dozens of questions that only you can answer.’ Mace tapped his fingernails on the cup and then drank, wincing at the heat. ‘I’ll write my report today and you can leave tomorrow. Carter will accompany you.’

  Tara’s expression solidified further. Crys recognised a dismissal when he heard one and stood. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, his emotions firmly under control. He saluted, nodded to Tara, and spun on his heel.

  ‘Send in the girl, Rillirin Fisher,’ Mace said as Crys reached the door. ‘I’ve questions for her too if we’re to defeat our enemies.’

  The word was bitter on his tongue. Since when has a prince of the blood been an enemy? A heathen enemy? Mace shook his head. ‘The world’s fucked,’ he muttered. ‘We’re fucked.’

  ‘Sir?’ Tara started and Mace held up his hand, already knowing what she was going to say.

  ‘Because you’re the one who first found him and you can check for differences in the story he gave you, has just given us, and is going to give my father. Because I am a suspicious bastard and yet a soft-hearted one who doesn’t want to believe Rivil murdered his own brother. Because, gods preserve us, if this tale is true, he’s going to need help getting in front of my father and, possibly, someone to defend him in case of assassination attempts. And because I want someone to report direct to me on how the news was received and what happened when Rivil was arrested. Good enough?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The door opened again and Dalli popped her head in. ‘Can we come in? This is Rillirin and she’d very much like to spill every Mireces secret she knows.’

  RILLIRIN

  First moon, eighteenth year of the reign of King Rastoth

  Dancer’s temple, Watchtown, Western Plain

  ‘Come on then. Time to see if you can make a kill.’

  Rillirin looked up from where she was fletching arrows. Dom was dressed for the cold, bow and quiver on his back. He held out a coat and cloak.

  ‘Kill?’ she said. ‘Only by accident.’

  Dom smirked. ‘That’s not the point, though. It’s my turn to hunt, and we don’t go out alone, so you’re my second.’

  Rillirin climbed to her feet and picked up the spear she’d been learning with. It was small even compared with Dalli’s, but it was still a weapon. Her weapon. ‘So I’m your protector, then?’ she asked.

  The corner of Dom’s mouth curved up. ‘Yes, Rillirin, you’re my protector,’ he said with a theatrical sigh. ‘You coming or not?’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Treeline. The deer’ll be on to the plain but they like to have cover to run to, so we go to them.’

  ‘What? That’s miles,’ Rillirin protested and Dom’s smile got bigger and more mischievous. It was good to see him smile; it’d been missing too much lately.

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘That’s why we’re riding.’

  ‘Oh. Good,’ Rillirin said without a hint of enthusiasm. Dom sniggered and led her to the paddock outside the temple. Rillirin threw on the coat and cloak and followed him. It hadn’t snowed in days and there were patches of pale green grass and mud showing on the track to Watchtown.

  Ash drifted in their wake and Rillirin groaned. ‘Don’t you have something else to do?’ she asked. Ash and Dalli were the only two who’d thawed towards her, and she enjoyed their company – most of the time.

  ‘I’m standing for Crys at his cleansing later, but for now’ – Ash spread his hands – ‘there’s nowhere I’d rather be than watching you try to ride a horse.’

  ‘Great.’ Rillirin took a deep breath and clambered on to the horse, the spear banging into her eyebrow. She grimaced at Ash’s snort of laughter behind her.

  ‘Ready?’ Dom asked as he mounted moments later.

  Oh gods, I’ve forgotten again. ‘Not in the least,’ she squeaked, already trying to get her feet out of the stirrups.

  ‘Because?’

  ‘Because I didn’t check the girth and you left it loose,’ she said and then squealed as the saddle slipped sideways. She clung to the mare’s mane and freed one foot from the stirrups, landed on her back with a thump as the animal sidestepped, snorting its disapproval and threatening to drag her. Dom roared with laughter even as he urged his horse close enough to grab her mare’s cheek strap and hold her still.

  Ash was whooping and clapping and Rillirin found herself laughing as she untangled herself and stood, flicking snow from her hair. ‘You bastard,’ she said and then cringed. ‘I’m sorry—’

  ‘Why? I can be a bastard,’ Dom replied with a shrug. ‘Don’t worry about it. Now, before I freeze to death, can we please get going?’

  Rillirin straightened the saddle and tightened the girth. She checked it twice before mounting, managed to get the spear butt sited on her boot, and then wheeled the mare with one awkward hand. ‘Race you!’ she shouted, surprising them both, and spurred her mount out through the temple gate. It wasn’t pretty, elbows all over the place and teeth rattling in her head, but she kept her seat and didn’t drop the spear.

  ‘Oh no you don’t,’ Dom yelled. His gelding reared and launched into a gallop and the pair raced away across the patchwork expanse of snow and grey grass towards the smudge of trees. And Rillirin was laughing.

  DOM

  First moon, eighteenth year of the reign of King Rastoth

  Edge of the Wolf Lands, Western Plain, Rilporian border

  ‘How far are we from Dancer’s Lake?’ Rillirin broke the silence and Dom dropped his head into his hands as the doe startled, ears flicking, and then bounded away into the trees.

  ‘Oh. Sorry,’ she said over the alarm calls of birds and the doe’s grunting cough.

  ‘We’ve been here an hour, silently waiting for dinner to trot into view, and when it does all you can think to do is start talking?’

  ‘I was just wondering, that’s all.’

  ‘And that’s what you’ll tell the others when we return without supper, is it? That you were wondering and you’re sorry they’re going to have to eat rabbit. Again. You have seen Lim’s face when you serve him rabbit, yes?’

  ‘I said sorry. We can wait for another.’

  Dom grunted and stood up, stretching stiff muscles. The cured horsehide kept them off the snow but did nothing to warm them and he stamped his feet and hopped about. ‘Nothing’ll come this way for a good while now and it’ll be dark by the time we get back as it is. And you can’t daydream every time you get bored. And you shouldn’t have been bored, anyway.’

  ‘I wasn’t bored,’ Rillirin protested as she stood up. ‘Well, not all the time. Why don’t we just go into town and buy dinner? We can say we caught it.’

  Dom closed his eyes for a second and then opened them and looked up at the sky. He raised his hands. ‘Dancer, please, if this is some sort of punishment, haven’t I suffered enough? Can’t you inflict her on someone else for a while?’

  ‘Hey, you promised to look after me,’ she retorted, hands on her hips. ‘You didn’t say for how long, so you’re stuck with me. Forever.’

  She was smiling and he had to smile back. Damn those bottomless eyes of hers, but forever didn’t sound too bad, despite the lack of venison. The roses in her cheeks told him she’d realised what she’d said, but she didn’t deny it. Or look away.

  ‘Yes, well, I was obviously delirious. I was ill, hadn’t eaten in days. Much like how I’ll be feeling later.’ He wagged a finger under her nose a
nd she made a grab for it. He snatched his hand away and when she overbalanced he let her fall against his chest. She gave an exaggerated shiver and he wrapped his arms around her.

  ‘You know your trouble? You’re trouble. And I’ve had enough of trouble. You can be someone else’s problem from now on. If anyone’ll have you,’ he said.

  Rillirin shoved him hard in the chest, breaking out of his arms, and he stood there stunned. ‘I’m not a slave,’ she growled, her eyes hurt and angry and bewildered. ‘You don’t just give me away.’ She snatched up her spear and headed into the trees in the doe’s wake.

  What? What’ve I said?

  ‘Rillirin,’ he called after her, but she broke into a run. ‘Ah, fuck,’ he muttered, grabbed his bow and hurried to catch her up. ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ he shouted ahead into the trees, but she kept going. ‘More damn prickly than a hedgehog,’ he grunted, feeling the muscles in his legs twinge at the unexpected exercise.

  Her trail was easy to see and went on for a damn mile. She was a fleet hedgehog, anyway. Dom burst into a glade where a giant beech had fallen and brought down several smaller trees. He was winded and cursing himself and her in equal measure, disgusted at the stabbing pain in his lower back, a hangover from the knowing. He skidded to a halt in a spray of leaves. Rillirin, pressed against the fallen trunk, her chest heaving for breath. Pinned by a fair-haired man with a sword to her throat.

  What the—

  Dom reached up and back and pulled out an arrow, nocked and loosed. The shaft pierced the man’s back and lodged in his liver, blood staining his blue tunic purple. He coughed in surprise and collapsed. From behind the trunks emerged half a dozen more.

  ‘Ah, fuck,’ he muttered again, pulse beating in his eyes and mixing with the sweat to cloud his vision. He saw swords and one spear as Mireces ran for him and for Rillirin, who was clambering over the dead man and fumbling to set her spear.

  Dom pointed his bow at the spearman, inviting the attack, and the Raider obliged. He dodged the throw – just – heard the hum of it passing and shot back, missed. Fucker was too close for a second shot, charging in the wake of his spear, dagger in his fist. Dom flung his bow, missed again, dragged his sword from its sheath, set his feet and let the Mireces run on to three feet of sharp, folded steel. The man grunted, looked down, puzzled, and Dom twisted the hilt, opening the wound and freeing his blade. Blood, entrails and stink followed it out.

  Spinning in a circle, sword extended, looking for his next opponent and trying not to puke. Heart thudding, a liquid hammering too high and too fast. Adrenaline would take him so far and guts further, but sooner or later those guts’d be tangling his feet.

  From the corner of his eye he saw a Raider club Rillirin to the ground, but then a muscular woman with mud-brown hair stepped forward and engaged him. Not many female Mireces took up weapons so she’d have to be good to have made it this far. The clang of metal hurt his ears and shivered up his left hand all the way to the shoulder. He stepped, ducked, watching her shoulders and eyes and hips as she struck again and again, parrying her power, learning her.

  She leant too far into a thrust and he grabbed her sword hand and pulled her off balance, punched her in the face and felt her teeth and nose give. She dropped like a sack of shit and, as he turned to face a third attacker, acting on the prickle up the back of his neck, Dom stomped the heel of his boot through her temple. She twitched, flopped and he stomped again, didn’t have time for more.

  Behind him a scream, hoarse, and he hoped it was a Raider and not Rillirin. This one was good, weaving his sword tip in complicated patterns to disguise his lunges. Dom side-stepped twice before realising he was being herded into the woman’s corpse. Or not-corpse, as she made a feeble grab at his leg. He leapt right, gasping as the Mireces’ sword opened the flesh of his forearm.

  But the man was over-extended and facing the wrong way and Dom rammed his blade up under his ribs and into his heart. He collapsed and this time Dom made sure, stabbing them both in the throat. He left them, searching for more Mireces, his bloodlust driving his muscles now, the only thing he had left.

  Thrum of a bowstring and he dived for the dirt, the arrow skimming overhead. The next took him in the back of the right thigh as he scrabbled upright and he yelled in pain, began a limping run for cover. A third laid open his scalp before he could put a trunk between himself and the enemy.

  Fucking shitting bastard shits. Arm, leg, head. What, do they want me a piece at a time? Do it or fuck off. He breathed deep and snapped the tail from the arrow sticking out of his ham. Just rest a while, breathe. Breathe.

  A shrill scream and he was leaping out of cover again. He ducked to avoid the expected shower of arrows, but none came. Rillirin was on a man’s back, legs around his waist, left arm around his throat and hand grasping her right biceps, right hand pushing the back of his head down into a chokehold. She didn’t have it yet and the man she rode thrashed his head, fighting to break her grip. At his feet another, the archer, had hold of her leg and was fumbling for his dagger, his quiver mercifully empty.

  Shit like this never fucking worked, but Dom threw his sword anyway. It hummed through the air and struck the archer hilt-first; he slammed face down into the mulch. Dom sprinted after his blade, mildly astonished at his own heroics.

  Rillirin’s man was on his knees now and her face was a mask of hate and strain, cords standing out in her neck. He clawed weakly at her forearm, trying to hook fingers in to gain some breathing space. Dom reached the man he had flattened, put a boot between his shoulder blades and grasped his face. Shoulders straining, he wrenched the Mireces’ neck up and around until it crunched. Gasping, weaving, hamstring screaming, he picked up his sword. ‘I’ll finish him,’ he panted.

  ‘No.’ Her voice was stretched with effort and hissed between her teeth, but there was no denying her venom. Dom took an unsteady step back and watched as the man’s face, already red, darkened to purple, whites of his eyes starred with burst blood vessels.

  ‘I’ll leave you to your business then,’ Dom mumbled. He checked the corpses, and then checked them again. Five and the one Rillirin was taking her sweet time killing. But there’d been seven, hadn’t there? He was sure he’d seen seven. With his nauseating adrenaline comedown, he just had to hope the survivor didn’t come back for more. Dom wasn’t sure he had another kill in him.

  The man was dead. Rillirin’s face was bruised and bloody and she was crying, but her eyes glittered with more than tears.

  Good for you. Hope you’re not expecting a fucking title.

  ‘Drag them over there,’ he sighed, wiping blood from his right eye and flapping his sword in the general direction. For a moment she looked crushed, but then she dragged herself to her feet and grabbed the dead man’s arm. Grunting, she began heaving on it, but she was done now, as little energy left in her as in him. He grabbed the other arm and hauled, his wounded leg shuddering, threatening to buckle.

  Finally it was done, six corpses piled together in a flail of twisted limbs and a stench of opened bowels.

  ‘As the forest feeds us, so we feed the forest. Dancer, take these bodies and give them back to the earth. Fox God, Trickster, we thank You for guiding our hands. Do you want a trophy?’ he asked and handed Rillirin a dagger with a bound-leather handle. ‘This belonged to your enemy. Now it belongs to you. You have killed for the Watchers in company with a Wolf.’ He put his hand on her shoulder; both of them were shaking. ‘We are war-kin now, Rillirin, closer than blood. Closer even than family, some say.’

  Her smile was radiant through the mud and bruising and she hugged the knife to her chest like a babe. Gods, she’s beautiful. He wrenched his thoughts away from what was under her clothes. ‘Now, are you going to help an old man with a shot leg back to the horses to be treated at the hospital?’ he asked.

  ‘You’re not that old,’ Rillirin said and wobbled away to retrieve her spear, leaving him floundering behind her. He stooped, hissing, to pick up his own bow and t
hen a Mireces spear to take his weight. The shakes were bad and he began to wonder if he really would make it back to his horse without help. Gods, he needed to piss.

  Rillirin slowed and then stopped, waiting for him to catch up. She put an arm around his back and Dom felt a surge of emotion at her touch. Not a knowing – not this time. He looked down at her bloody face and pressed a kiss to her hair. When she looked up he chanced it; he kissed her mouth. She held it for a second and then slid her face away, but she squeezed his waist, a cautious, non-committal sort of squeeze. But still a squeeze. Dom decided not to cheer and concentrated on walking.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said as they finally came into view of the horses. ‘What I said before was a thoughtless joke. But if I could advise not running head first into an ambush next time, I’m sure we can talk things through.’

  ‘Next time? You’re planning on being a giant cock again then?’ she asked and pushed him away. He squawked as his injured leg took his weight, flapping like a chicken to regain his balance.

  Astonished and furious he stabbed a finger in her direction, saw her smile, mischievous and oh-so fucking amused. He narrowed his eyes and mustered his dignity. ‘Why, you little—’ he began and she pressed a finger to his lips.

  ‘Careful. Don’t say anything you might regret.’ She stretched up on to her toes and replaced her finger with her lips, a grazing kiss he almost didn’t feel. But a kiss. She’d kissed him. Voluntarily.

  Dom ran his tongue around his gums. ‘Now I’m worried.’

  She shrugged a shoulder. ‘Don’t be. I’m happy.’

  ‘Happy? I’ve been shot,’ he protested, waving a hand at his leg and head, thrusting his bloody sleeve under her nose. ‘You’ve got nothing more than a couple of bruises.’

  She grinned and untied the horses. ‘Maybe I’m better at this than you. Come on, we should get back to town.’ She looked behind her and shivered. ‘Just in case.’