by Den Patrick
NIGHTFALL
Book Three of The Ashen Torment
Den Patrick
Copyright
HarperVoyager
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020
Copyright © Den Patrick 2020
Map copyright @ Nicolette Caven 2018
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020
Den Patrick asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008228217
Ebook Edition © August 2020 ISBN: 9780008228231
Version: 2020-06-24
Dedication
For Simon and Heather
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Map
Chapter One: Kjellrunn
Chapter Two: Steiner
Chapter Three: Kimi
Chapter Four: Ruslan
Chapter Five: Streig
Chapter Six: Steiner
Chapter Seven: Ruslan
Chapter Eight: Streig
Chapter Nine: Kjellrunn
Chapter Ten: Ruslan
Chapter Eleven: Kimi
Chapter Twelve: Streig
Chapter Thirteen: Steiner
Chapter Fourteen: Kjellrunn
Chapter Fifteen: Kjellrunn
Chapter Sixteen: Steiner
Chapter Seventeen: Ruslan
Chapter Eighteen: Streig
Chapter Nineteen: Kimi
Chapter Twenty: Silverdust
Chapter Twenty-One: Steiner
Chapter Twenty-Two: Ruslan
Chapter Twenty-Three: Kimi
Chapter Twenty-Four: Steiner
Chapter Twenty-Five: Kimi
Chapter Twenty-Six: Kristofine
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Kjellrunn
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Ruslan
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Steiner
Chapter Thirty: Silverdust
Chapter Thirty-One: Kimi
Chapter Thirty-Two: Ruslan
Chapter Thirty-Three: Silverdust
Chapter Thirty-Four: Kjellrunn
Chapter Thirty-Five: Steiner
Chapter Thirty-Six: Kimi
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Kjellrunn
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Steiner
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Kimi
Chapter Forty: Steiner
Chapter Forty-One: Kjellrunn
Chapter Forty-Two: Silverdust
Chapter Forty-Three: Steiner
Chapter Forty-Four: Kimi
Chapter Forty-Five: Kjellrunn
Chapter Forty-Six: Kimi
Chapter Forty-Seven: Taiga
Chapter Forty-Eight: Kimi
Chapter Forty-Nine: Steiner
Chapter Fifty: Kimi
Chapter Fifty-One: Steiner
Acknowledgements
Also by Den Patrick
About the Publisher
Map
CHAPTER ONE
Kjellrunn
Word of the Solmindre Empire’s defeat at Dos Khor spread across the continent in a thousand conspiratorial whispers. As ever, when the Vartiainens are involved, it was difficult to discern truth from hyperbole. With hindsight, I came to realize that even the most outlandish exaggeration was a pale shadow compared to the Stormtide Prophet.
– From the memoir of Drakina Tveit, Lead Librarian of Midtenjord Province
Kjellrunn stood at one end of the altar with her head bowed, willing herself not cry. She was attired in the vestments of a priestess of Frejna, her hair plaited into an elegant crown around her head. Trine stood in a similar pose at the opposite end of the altar and was careful to avoid catching Kjellrunn’s gaze. Sundra greeted the townsfolk with Maxim at the temple door as they entered. The sun had begun to set and a fragile calm descended on Dos Khor after the shocking events of the previous day. Novices and crew members from the Watcher’s Wait stood quietly at the back of the temple watching the small benches fill with local worshippers. All the seats were taken and yet more people came through the doors, uncertainty written on their faces. Soon the congregation stood three deep at the sides of the circular temple. Kjellrunn imagined she could feel a breathless need. These people had come to hear something that made sense of all they had seen. The leviathan had been shocking in size and fury, more shocking still for the simple truth that a girl such as Kjellrunn could summon it from the sea to destroy two Imperial galleons.
‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ said Romola as she emerged from the shadows. A serious expression crossed the pirate’s face, replacing the usual look of wry amusement. ‘Where I come from we give people a few days to get used to the loss before we say goodbye.’
Kjellrunn leaned forward and whispered, ‘We can’t delay in this heat. The bodies will go bad … It has to be now.’ Romola nodded and made to turn away but Kjellrunn took her by the hand. The pirate raised an eyebrow. ‘But I agree with you,’ added Kjellrunn. ‘For what’s it worth, I think we could all use some time to catch our breath.’
The service was especially long. The names and ages of the children who had died defending Dos Khor were read out, prompting tears from the townsfolk. Sundra moved on to the pirates next, though she had the good grace to call them sailors, and praised their courage in the face of such intimidating odds. Kjellrunn listened to the high priestess’s words and a moment later Maxim would translate what Sundra had said for the sake of the local congregation. The novices and the pirates hugged one another, numb with shock and hollow-eyed. And then the high priestess spoke warmly of the renegade Vigilant who had served as a mother and a mentor to the novices. Kjellrunn squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself not to cry. She would grieve Mistress Kamalov in private, she promised herself.
Finally, when Kjellrunn could bear no more, Sundra brought the mass funeral to a close and the townsfolk patiently queued before the altar. Each person kissed the fingertips of their left hand and touched it to the stone as they bowed, before setting down one coin and one piece of fruit. All of the worshippers shot glances of awe at Kjellrunn, who bowed to each of them and forced a smile as best she could.
‘What are they doing?’ said Kjellrunn quietly when she caught Sundra’s eye.
‘Perhaps it is the custom here?’ Sundra smiled as another person left a coin and piece of fruit on the altar. ‘Or perhaps they are merely giving their thanks.’
The custom took half as long as the ceremony itself and Maxim appeared through the last of the worshippers. Kjellrunn had not had a chance to speak to the boy since the previous day. He had been busy preparing the temple while Romola had insisted Kjellrunn rest alone in her room.
‘It’s nice to see you back in a black dress again,’ said Maxim.
‘I think it
’s called a vestment.’ Kjellrunn plucked at the linen fabric.
Maxim shrugged. ‘Still looks like a dress no matter the name.’
Kjellrunn held her arms out to him and they hugged. For a fleeting second she thought of Steiner, wondering what it would have been like to be the older sibling.
‘You know they have a fancy name for you now?’ said Maxim. ‘The Stormtide Prophet. Seems to me you didn’t really need that book about Frejna’s wrathful aspect.’
‘I suppose not. The answers were inside me the whole time. They just took a while to find.’ Maxim took her hand in his and tugged. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘Leading you outside.’
‘It’s been a long day, Maxim. I’m not sure I feel like meeting anyone right now. So much has happened—’
‘And a lot of the townspeople are still here. They want to thank the Stormtide Prophet personally.’ The boy grinned. ‘Come on, it’ll take your mind off things, just for a moment.’ He began to lead her away as Sundra called after them.
‘Tread carefully,’ said the old woman. ‘Nothing like this has happened for a very long time. There’s no telling how people will react.’
Trine remained standing by the altar, her gaze sliding between Sundra and Kjellrunn.
‘Hoy there,’ said Kjellrunn. Trine’s eyes widened, clearly surprised that she was being addressed. The girl, who was about the same age as Kjellrunn and just as scrawny, had been a constant thorn of irritation since they first come into contact with each other.
‘I think there’s been more than enough fighting lately,’ continued Kjellrunn.
‘Too much,’ replied Trine.
‘There’s no good reason you and I have to be at odds with each other. Agreed?’
‘Of course.’
‘And we’ll need to find a way to cremate bodies without you using your powers. You’ll get sick if you keep using the arcane so regularly. Mistress Kamalov was right. I should never have suggested it. It was wrong of me.’
A small smile crept across Sundra’s face and Kjellrunn took it as one of approval.
‘How did you do it?’ Trine cleared her throat, her expression wary, barely able to maintain eye contact. ‘How did you summon the leviathan?’
‘I don’t know.’ Kjellrunn rubbed her forehead wearily. ‘Not really. I just know I was angry and that I wanted to protect everyone.’
‘I feel the same way. You know, when the fire comes.’ Trine forced a wary smile. ‘We have that in common at least.’
‘I think we have more in common that either of us would like to admit,’ replied Kjellrunn. ‘That’s what Mistress Kamalov said, before she—’ But Kjellrunn couldn’t finish the sentence. An image of the renegade Vigilant flashed before her eyes. One moment she had been on the beach, directing the flow of battle; the next she had died, cruelly burned by arcane fire. Burned by the very Empire she had fled.
‘You should go,’ said Trine. ‘There are a lot of people who want to meet you. We’ll speak later, I hope.’
‘We will,’ replied Kjellrunn, surprised to find that not only was she telling the truth, but perhaps she was looking forward to it. She followed Maxim into the street, where knots of people waited, sipping from clay mugs and sharing flatbreads. There was a hushed, fragile quality to the conversations and people spoke in reverent tones. Smiles appeared on the faces of the townspeople as they caught sight of Kjellrunn and many bowed on instinct.
‘This is all very strange,’ she whispered.
‘One day you’re running away from the temple’ – Maxim shrugged – ‘the next you’re destroying Imperial galleons. It’s never not strange with a Vartiainen around.’
‘We all serve in our own way,’ said Kjellrunn, hearing Mistress Kamalov’s wisdom in her words. She almost smiled and wondered where Steiner and her father were, but didn’t have the chance to linger on her thoughts for long. The people of Dos Khor approached, keen to know more of the Stormtide Prophet.
‘Kjellrunn, wake up.’
She opened her eyes and squinted at her bedroom door with bleary irritation. The townspeople had kept her busy late into the night until Sundra had insisted she go to bed and get some rest.
‘What is it?’ she called out, her voice a dull croak. Maxim’s head peeked around the edge of the door. There was a frantic cast to his eyes that caused her pulse to race a little faster.
‘You know how Frejna has her two crows?’
‘Of course. Se and Venter.’ Kjellrunn swung her legs out of bed, bemused why Maxim should arrive so early with such questions about the goddesses.
‘And how Frøya has her two cats?’
‘Diplo and Lelse.’ Kjellrunn frowned. ‘Maxim, these are folk tales that even small children know.’
‘You’re wrong. A lot of children don’t know the old tales because the Empire didn’t like anyone talking about the goddesses.’
‘What’s got into you this morning?’ asked Kjellrunn, crossing the room to the door.
‘Get dressed and come downstairs.’ Maxim hurried down the tower’s stone steps. ‘And be quick!’ he called over his shoulder.
Kjellrunn pulled on her vestments and straightened them as best she could; then she pulled a comb through her hair, thinking of all the times Steiner had teased her for the unruly tangle.
‘I’m a priestess now,’ she reminded herself. ‘I need to look like a priestess.’
She descended the stairs to the temple proper, hearing low voices and the occasional peal of laughter. The novices were arrayed around the altar in a semicircle; many were kneeling and attending to something on the floor.
‘What’s going on?’ whispered Kjellrunn to herself. Sundra stood by the altar with a look of cheerful confusion and Kjellrunn understood why. ‘Where did all of these cats come from? There are so many of them. Are they strays?’
‘They were in here this morning, first thing.’ Sundra shrugged. ‘Sleeping on the altar or curled up on the benches. Strange that they should only come to the temple now; we’ve been here for weeks.’
One by one, all of the cats turned to stare at Kjellrunn. Tortoiseshell and long-haired gazed at her with unblinking eyes. Black and white, tabbies, and those the colours of rust and gold looked in her direction. All began to purr with a sound that was alarming in its intensity. Sundra began a long, helpless, wheezy laugh.
‘This isn’t funny,’ said Kjellrunn, feeling uncomfortable under the watchful gazes of so many creatures.
‘It seems Frøya has sent a sign, as if more were needed, that you are her chosen one.’
‘But Frøya only has two cats,’ replied Kjellrunn.
‘Frøya has been known to overdo it,’ admitted Sundra.
The rest of the day proved to be equally strange. Kjellrunn headed to the beach where they had fought against the Empire. The many felines followed like an entourage. The novices followed in turn, fascinated by Kjellrunn and the cats in equal measure. Romola’s crew were already stripping the Imperial ships for timbers they could use to repair the Watcher’s Wait. The dull sound of industry was carried on the breeze as the men and women sweated and grunted, toiling on the wrecks as best they could.
‘Did I really snap that in two?’ Kjellrunn nodded to the sculpture of a hand. Once it had stood some twenty feet tall, but now it was missing its fingers.
‘You broke off the top section and flung it at the Imperial galleons,’ replied Maxim. ‘I’d be completely terrified of you if I didn’t know you were on our side.’
Kjellrunn though the boy was merely gaming with her, but she caught the look in his eye and the truth of his words: she was wielding powers that others could barely comprehend. Even novices trained at Vladibogdan struggled to understand the raw strength of her abilities.
‘You know I’d never hurt you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.’ She spoke the words to Maxim, but her thoughts had drifted across the Ashen Gulf to Steiner and Marek.
Arcane fire had blackened the pale sand, but the w
inds had erased the scorch marks. Kjellrunn looked for the place where Mistress Kamalov had breathed her last obdurate breath, and was frustrated when she couldn’t find the spot her mentor had fallen.
‘Why come back here?’ said Maxim, his tone quiet. Kjellrunn looked up from her musing to see the boy had a sullen expression in his eyes.
‘I don’t know really,’ admitted Kjellrunn. ‘I just wanted …’
‘A lot of people died here. It’s a wretched place.’ And with that the boy slunk away, heading towards the town with rounded shoulders, his head hung low. Kjellrunn took a few moments to thank the dead for their sacrifice before her thoughts turned to the sea. She sent her awareness out over the waves and down into the cool depths. Something brushed against her senses, a smell of salt, a vast pressure at her brow; sound became muted in that moment.
‘So you’re still here,’ breathed Kjellrunn to the presence in the water. ‘You’re still here,’ she repeated with a slow smile.
It didn’t take long to find Maxim, though the trail of cats and novices was an unwelcome impediment to someone who enjoyed wandering alone as much as Kjellrunn did. The town square of Dos Khor was crowded with carts and wagons of a visiting caravan. Traders were setting up stalls and the townsfolk were already milling about in anticipation of hard-to-find foods and spices.
Maxim was talking to an older boy who was peeling an orange and gesturing in a lazy fashion. Kjellrunn felt a spike of irritation … no, she realized, jealousy. The older boy was dark-skinned, with a wide face and strong cheekbones. He was perhaps Steiner’s age; he certainly seemed to have Steiner’s confidence.
‘North?’ said Maxim.
‘Yes, across the desert from Ahshini.’ He cast a look over his shoulder at the caravan. ‘We travel down here three times a year to trade and get the news, but this time I’m here for something more special.’
‘Who’s this, Maxim?’ said Kjellrunn, stepping closer and drawing herself up to her full height. She hoped she looked imposing in her black vestments.
‘I’m Xen-wa.’ He grinned and proffered Kjellrunn a segment of orange. For some reason she found his easygoing nature galling. This was the site of a battle, after all.
