North Star Guide Me Home

by Jo Spurrier

  ‘What about the sea cave? The eels?’

  ‘That too. Don’t know about the eels. I hope they’re dead.’

  ‘Me too,’ he said. He turned to face them, and his legs folded under him, sliding down the rough stone until he sat heavily on the floor. ‘Sirri … there were some things I left, hidden in my cell. Did … did you find them?’

  She went to him and knelt at his side. ‘No … I didn’t think to look. I’m sorry. Were they important?’

  He laughed at that, a dry, broken cackle. ‘Important? No. Just rubbish I snuck past the old man. I was going to get rid of them, burn them maybe, or throw them into the sea. But you took care of it already.’ He twisted around to look over the wall, and the movement sent a wave of fire through Sierra’s back and shoulders in a sympathetic echo. ‘Don’t leave it like this. Hollow it out, turn it into storerooms, or a cesspit, I don’t care. Make it so that in a hundred years’ time, no one remembers where the cursed place was.’ He seized her wrist. ‘Please, Sirri!’

  ‘Alright,’ she said, ‘I’ll do it. I promise, Rasten.’ She tried to ease her arm out of his grip. With wide eyes, he glanced down, and only then did he seem to realise how he’d grabbed her. Hastily, he let her go, and then scrubbed his hands over his face.

  Then, Rasten shuddered, and groped for the wall as he struggled to stand. Isidro cast a mage-light into the air, and in its glow Rasten’s eyes seemed blank, blinded, as he turned towards the passage leading through the interior of the fortress, the one Isidro had taken to bring her here when they’d first arrived, and set out to follow it.

  ‘Rasten!’ Sierra called after him, but he ignored her as he hobbled away into the darkness. Muttering a curse, she turned to Isidro. ‘Does Cam —’

  ‘He knows. Go after him, I’ll clear the passage from the other end.’

  Shaking herself, she started after Rasten. He glanced back when he heard the slap of her boots on the stone, but didn’t break his stride.

  He knew his way around better than she had. He set a path unerringly for the chambers behind the main door, the only part in use at the moment.

  She tried to talk to him, but he ignored every word as though she hadn’t spoken. When she reached for his mind, she found his shields hard in place, sheer and impenetrable.

  By the time they reached the entry-hall, it was packed with folk, crowded together in a cacophony of confused and worried voices. When the noise first registered, Sierra saw Rasten’s step falter, but he pressed on again until a turn in the passage brought them into view. At the sight of them he flinched, clenching his fists until the knuckles gleamed white through his skin.

  ‘Rasten …’ Sierra said. She would have laid a hand on his arm, but she could tell from the bunching of his muscles that it would be a bad idea. He hated crowds, and after what she’d been threatened with on the banks of the Greenstone River she had an idea why. Right now, he was on a knife-edge of self-control and there was no telling what would push him over. ‘Fires Below, Rasten,’ she said. ‘Would you cursed well talk to me? I want to help you.’

  That, at last, seemed to get his attention. He swung his head her way, his eyes haunted and full of pain. ‘There’s nothing left to say, Sirri. You’ve done all you can.’

  She had to strain to hear the first of his words, but by the time he finished, the crowd had fallen silent. Some had seen him before, of course, but only once, when he came out of the night like a demon of flame and fury to slaughter their captors and set them free. To the others he was just a legend.

  ‘Stand aside,’ a voice rang out through the sudden silence.

  It was Isidro, standing at the doorway to the throne room. With a shuffling of feet on stone, the gathered folk obeyed.

  With a deep, steadying breath, Rasten started forward. ‘I want to see the king.’

  ‘Let him through,’ Cam called from the chamber beyond.

  Sierra drew a sharp breath, and bit her lip.

  What does he want? Isidro asked.

  By the Black Sun, I wish I knew. Be careful, Issey, he’s half-mad at the moment. You can see it in his eyes.

  When is he ever less than half-mad? he asked, but with a gesture to the guards, he moved aside, leaving the doorway free.

  Rasten started forward, limping more heavily now. Hurrying through the passages had cost a great deal of his strength, Sierra judged. She kept pace beside him, and as they passed Isidro he fell into step at Rasten’s other shoulder.

  In the throne room, Cam stood on the dais with his hand on the hilt of his sword. A movement on the gallery above caught Sierra’s eye, and she glanced up to see archers lining the walkway, with mages scattered between them. Ardamon stood behind Cam, sword and shield in hand, and guardsmen lined the walls, though what they hoped to do against someone like Rasten, Sierra couldn’t guess.

  Rasten hesitated at the sight of him, but hobbled to the centre of the room. Then, he sank to his knees on the cold stone.

  ‘Your grace,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘You told me once you’d have my life for what I’ve done. Well, I’ve come to lay it at your feet.’

  Sierra lunged forward. ‘No! You son of a bitch, Rasten, I —’

  Rasten’s head snapped her way, as sharp and intent as a hawk, and he flung up one hand, releasing a cord of power that caught her about the chest and wrapped her up in a web of power, like a spider catching a fly.

  At the flash of power and flame, Cam ripped his sword from its sheath. ‘Let her go.’

  Rasten bowed his head, but didn’t lower his hand. ‘I mean it, Cammarian,’ he said. ‘My life is yours. Just swing your cursed sword and finish it.’

  Isidro started forward, glancing from Sierra to Cam. She could break out of it, surely — he knew Rasten couldn’t dominate her as he once had, whereas Cam had no defences. Cam needed him, but Sierra could fend for herself … couldn’t she?

  Cam jumped down from the dais, levelling the point of his sword at Rasten as he advanced. ‘I said, let her go!’

  Rasten sat back on his heels, lifting his chin. ‘No. You’ll have to kill me!’

  At that, Cam faltered, turning to Isidro with a worried glance. ‘Issey, help her!’

  Swallowing a curse, Isidro turned to Sierra and reached for the flame-coloured ropes wrapped around her.

  Rasten tried to protect his working, but he wasn’t quick enough — Isidro drained the power away, drawing it into himself and, as the cords of power evaporated, Sierra’s legs gave way, and she fell, gasping for breath.

  ‘What cursed game are you playing at?’ Cam demanded.

  Rasten dragged his hands across his face, as though he meant to claw the skin away from his skull. ‘I told you!’ he roared. ‘Just do it! End it! I want it to be over!’ With the words, Rasten’s power flexed and spilled as he loosened his grip upon it. Flames boiled out of the air to wrap around him, pouring down his back like water, spreading out around his feet in a flickering, liquid pool. Isidro felt them reach through the floor, wrapping about the pillars beneath the palace as the building around them began to shake.

  Isidro reached for Sierra. Shields! he snapped inside her head.

  She didn’t answer, distraught and overwhelmed, and so Isidro snatched at her power instead, drawing it in and casting a shield to contain Rasten’s seething power.

  As the tremors died away, Sierra heaved herself to her feet and started towards the two men, one with sword drawn, the other kneeling unarmed upon the stone. ‘Cam, please!’

  He didn’t lift his eyes from Rasten. ‘I’ve killed men in battle,’ he said. ‘I’ve slain wounded to spare them suffering. I’ve killed those who’ve threatened me and my kin. But I’ve never yet spilt the blood of a man who’s lost his wits.’

  Rasten threw his head back and howled, a sound of pure anguish and pain. ‘You think I’m mad? Curse you, you know what I’ve done! I’ve raped, tortured and murdered. I’ve taken more lives than I can count. Your brother and Sierra — do you want me to tell you what I did to
them, every cursed moment? What if I told you I enjoyed it, every gasp and cry? You know what I deserve, just do it!’

  Cam didn’t move. ‘Of course you’re mad. I’d wager you have been since Kell slaughtered your family. If you just wanted to die, why didn’t you cut your own cursed throat?’

  ‘If I’d come in here tearing your guards apart you’d have filled me with arrows by now!’ Rasten thundered.

  ‘Then why didn’t you?’ Isidro said, moving to Cam’s side.

  When Rasten turned to Isidro there were no defences left in his gaze, just a bone-deep weariness and an unending pain. ‘I’ve done enough harm,’ he said. ‘You know why I’m here. I can’t take it anymore. The nightmares, the memories, the pain … the way people look at me, the tales they tell when they think I can’t hear. I want to be done with it! I want some peace.’

  ‘Rasten, no,’ Sierra said. ‘Not after everything we’ve been through. You’ve come so far! Kell’s gone, you’re free. Isn’t this what you spent all those years suffering to achieve?’

  He shook his head, tears spilling over his cheeks, and raised his arms to hide his face. ‘This? Being alone and weary and lost? I thought it would be better, Sirri, but it’s just bad in a different way. There’s nothing left for me, he took it all. I know he broke me, of course I know it — but now I see how bad the damage is. You showed me, you and these other folk going back to their lives. There’s nothing here for me, and I’d rather be dead than go on like this.’ He turned to Cam and closed his eyes. ‘I tried to do some good, to balance up the scales … but that’s over now, and it isn’t enough. I don’t want to live with the things I’ve done! I’m the last part left of Kell’s reign, the last piece of vermin to be destroyed. I don’t care what you do with me, hang me out for the birds, feed me to the cursed eels, I don’t give a shit. I just want it to be over. I want some peace. Your grace, please don’t make me beg.’

  Cam stepped back. The coldness and fury had drained from his face, and now he just looked bewildered and uneasy. ‘Isidro,’ he said. ‘Issey … what would you have me do? Do you want him dead?’

  Sierra clenched her fists, sending sparks of power rippling across her skin. ‘Cam, I swear by the Black Sun —’

  ‘Let him speak!’ Cam snapped. ‘He has a right to it.’

  Isidro held himself as stiff as a sword’s blade. Rasten slowly folded, curling inward until he huddled on the stone, his face turned away. He seemed so small, this man who’d haunted him for so long. He was young, too, closer to Sierra’s age than his own.

  The crumbling mind overcome by despair, the pain that lay over him like a blanket of lead — Isidro knew these, knew them intimately. He’d been in that cold and empty place and made the same desperate search for escape. He remembered how it felt to be so certain that nothingness would be better than this overwhelming, inescapable pain.

  ‘Don’t do it,’ he said. His voice sounded so hoarse and hollow he hardly recognised it. ‘It won’t solve anything. It won’t do any good.’

  ‘Look, I know he’s cracked, it’s as plain as day … a mad dog’s not to blame for its madness, but it can still work harm. I can’t let him hurt anyone else.’ He turned to Sierra. ‘I’m sorry, Sirri, I can’t.’

  Isidro closed his eyes and rubbed his brow. All of a sudden he had a pounding headache. ‘Cam, look, I … I just …’

  Rasten’s power had run out now, it seemed — the flames had died away to a few flickering strands that danced around him like sprites, and the strain of holding the shield was only making Isidro’s head hurt worse. He let it melt away, and realised abruptly that the throne room had filled with people, despite his order to keep them out.

  There was a ripple of murmurs as Isidro’s inky black shield melted away to reveal the scene: Cam still with his sword drawn and Rasten huddled on the marble, a pitiful, broken shape.

  As soon as the barrier dropped, one small figure in the crowd darted forward, throwing herself down at Rasten’s side. It was one of the mages, a woman called Lavani. Only a short time ago, Isidro had seen her up in the workrooms before Sierra called him away.

  ‘Your grace,’ she said, ‘please show him mercy. I know he’s done terrible things, but if it weren’t for him I’d be a slave still, or dead. He set me free, your grace, and he gave me the strength to fight. I know that doesn’t make up for what he’s done, but please, have mercy.’

  For a long moment, Cam could do nothing but stare at her. As her words died away, one of the guardsmen stepped forward with a rattle of mail. He knelt beside the young woman, setting his spear and shield down with a clatter. ‘Your grace, have mercy. For the sake of those of us he set free, please spare him.’

  Somewhere in the hall, another guard began to stamp the butt of his spear against the stone. The sound spread, swelling, as other guards followed suit and the gathered folk stamped their feet in time. More came forward, kneeling in uneven ranks and raising the cry, Mercy, your grace, have mercy. Slowly, Rasten lifted his head, looking around with bewilderment.

  As more men and women and even children came forward, Isidro saw Cam looking around with a deep frown. He pulled Sierra close to murmur something in her ear, and then turned to leap up onto the dais. For a time, he let the chant go on, until at last he raised his sword for attention. After a few moments, the noise died away to an expectant silence, though in the entry-hall and out on the steps the chant carried on.

  ‘I doubt the wisdom of this,’ Cam called out, his voice ringing across the hall, ‘but when so many souls call for clemency, together with my own kin, I must listen. Very well, I’ll spare his life, with one proviso. That he pledges obedience to the crown and swears not to harm anyone under my rule. But mark my words, all of you — this is not forgiveness.’ He levelled his sword at Rasten. ‘This man has done more harm than you can know. Remember, when you go to your furs tonight, that you haven’t just spared the man who freed you — you’ve spared a man who slaughtered thousands, a torturer and a rapist who’s done every bit as much harm as the Slavers he freed you from. Remember that, and pray that you’ve made the right choice. By all the Gods, I will be.’

  ‘Issey, are you sure you’re alright with this?’

  Isidro felt very strange, as cold and numb as if he’d been turned to stone. Cam laid a hand on his arm and Isidro flinched back. His brother’s touch felt hot enough to burn. Cam backed away when Isidro recoiled.

  He remembered well the days when any touch sent his instincts screaming of danger, but Isidro had thought that time long behind him.

  Cam drew a ragged breath. ‘Look, brother, if you want him dead, just say so. I’ll see it done, I swear —’

  ‘No! By all the Gods, Cam, you heard those folk. If he dies there’ll be a riot —’

  ‘I don’t care what they want. I’m talking about you. After what happened that winter … by all the Gods, I swore I’d kill him. This seems to be a year of breaking oaths, but I’ll keep this one if you want it, and I don’t care what it costs me.’

  Isidro shook his head. ‘No. Don’t do it. You’ll just be finishing Kell’s work.’

  Cam turned away with a shake of his head. ‘If a man takes a spear to the gut, the kindest thing to do is cut his throat and get it over with. I’m not convinced this is any different, Issey, I’m truly not.’

  ‘It’d break Sirri.’

  ‘Maybe. But he’ll likely just hang himself with a blanket anyway, and that’d wound her just as badly. If he truly wants to die, we won’t be able to stop him, however many guards we post. He looked to me like a man set on the grave.’ They were in a small chamber behind the throne room, with the noise of the crowd still echoing through the halls.

  There was a sideboard near the door, and Cam rummaged through it to pull out a bottle, and took a cautious swig. Isidro almost stopped him, but decided that the chances of a spy planting a poisoned bottle at random was too small to be considered. When Cam offered him the bottle, he took a pull himself.

  ‘For mon
ths I’ve been thinking we’d have to hunt him down sooner or later,’ Cam said. ‘I thought he couldn’t help but turn back to his old ways. I never dreamt he’d walk in here and offer his throat up to the blade. Curse it, I don’t know what to think anymore … and what about Sirri? Is she alright?’ Cam asked. ‘I know you were up with her last night. I wanted to talk to her this morning, but she ducked out so quickly …’

  ‘She’s as brittle as spun glass,’ Isidro said. ‘It might help, having him here. She trusts him. She’s calmer when she knows he has her back.’

  Cam took another gulp, and slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t understand it, but it’s true enough … and perhaps he’ll be useful, when all this comes to a head. He’ll fight for her, at least, we can be sure of that. But it’s going to make things more difficult. We’ll need support from the other clans in the long run and the board is laid out against us. I’m an Angessovar, Mira’s ancestry makes it look like the Wolf Clan’s taking a second bite at the cherry, and Sirri’s a Child of the Black Sun — any of those are reason enough for the clans to set against us, but when they find out that I’ve got Kell’s apprentice under my roof … there’s no chance.’

  Isidro heaved a sigh. ‘It doesn’t matter. The Akharians will move against us long before the clans could make any difference. If we win, they’d be fools to stand against us.’

  ‘And if we don’t, it’s a moot point.’ Cam rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Am I being foolish to keep us here?’

  Isidro shook his head. ‘No, you’re right, we have to stop running sometime. Look, Cam, I need to get back to the workrooms. We’re building some defences —’

  Cam nodded, cutting him off with a gesture. ‘Some system of checkpoints, Ardamon told me. But are you sure you’re alright, Issey? Having Rasten under this roof?’

  Isidro had started towards the door, but at the question he slowly turned back. ‘You remember that fight in the east?’

  ‘When you woke up? Of course I remember.’

  Isidro looked down at his hands, the flesh and blood one and the cold steel of his claw. ‘This power Kell gave me … Sirri couldn’t help me with it, and I couldn’t master it by myself, but … but Rasten …’