by Emma Miles
‘With the worst already done I shall get straight on with cutting now. When I’ve cleared a third, or he has reached the tower with his cutting, bring us food then.’
Rosa nodded and went on to offer water to Adrin.
Kesta picked up the scythe and with nothing more resilient than grass to cut she fell into an easy rhythm. On the Fulmers everyone helped with the harvest and Kesta had learnt to handle a scythe as a girl; back then the tool had been almost as big as her, now it was like an extension to her arms. Even so she was only about a quarter of the way down her strip of land when Adrin reached the Raven Tower. Here and there though, saplings still stood, some hacked off near the base, others still whole.
Kesta hopped up onto the cart, throwing on an armful of cut grass before sitting down. Rosa handed her a bowl of vegetable stew and some bread and then stepped back out of the way as Adrin jumped up onto the cart to sit beside Kesta. He held out a hand and Rosa stepped forward to give him his food.
‘I’ve taken a look at your plot,’ Adrin said between mouthfuls. ‘You’re a clever woman.’
‘Thank you.’ She tried not to smile too much. ‘But you have the advantage still. I have no doubt that with your strength you’ll have those roots up and the debris cleared away before I can finish cutting.’
‘I wondered if you might use your magic.’
Kesta paused. There was nothing in a walker’s skills that could clear land for planting, unless she burnt everything down, but he didn’t need to know that. ‘That would be cheating,’ she replied.
Adrin nodded. ‘You are a very interesting woman.’
‘Chieftain!’ Tantony barked as he came striding over; glancing up at the Raven Tower.
Adrin gave Kesta a wink and a grin and hopped down off the wagon. ‘It’s only fair that we both rest our feet, Merkis!’
Tantony glared at him and the man’s smile faded a little. ‘Yes, Merkis. Apologies, my Lady,’
Kesta decided it would be best to say nothing. It was the first time she’d seen Tantony assert any authority and Rosa was watching him avidly.
‘My Lady,’ Tantony turned back to Kesta. ‘We have had a reply back from the king already; he intends to sail here first thing tomorrow to consult with the Thane. It’s a military visit not a court one so he’ll be arriving with just a few warriors. As you’re busy would you like me to see that his rooms are readied?’
‘Well, yes.’ Kesta was taken aback a little. Surely the king ought to summon his Thane to him, not go rushing across the lake himself. No wonder Jorrun had gained the reputation of being the real power in Elden. ‘I’m sorry but I must finish this.’
Tantony scowled, but he nodded and walked away with a warning glance at Adrin.
‘Well, something has got the king stirred up!’ Adrin stated.
Kesta was shocked to find herself eager for her evening talk with Jorrun; she glanced up the tower and Adrin mistook her reason.
‘Don’t worry about him, he’s too busy with his sorcery to worry about what we’re doing.’
‘Well, shall we?’ she smiled at him and he beamed back.
‘After you, my Lady.’
Even though she knew she would lose, Kesta threw herself into cutting the rest of her plot. Adrin tried his best to look casual, but he showed a spark of temper at one small tree whose roots he couldn’t pull up until he’d dug down a substantial way. Kesta had only just finished cutting and begun clearing when Adrin threw a tangle of roots onto the cart; covering himself in loose earth as he raised his arms with a cry of triumph. Kesta was exhausted, but she held herself straight as she walked over to the cart.
‘Congratulations. Rosa, would you have a barrel of beer brought from the cellars please?’
‘Yes, my Lady.’ Rosa walked away, seeming reluctant to leave Kesta alone with Adrin and his warriors.
‘We thought you might catch him.’ One of the men grinned.
‘Aye! We thought that stump had bested him!’ Another agreed.
Adrin growled and thumped the man’s arm playfully. ‘I’d like to see you do better, Pagna!’
‘Well I’d love to have another contest but with the king coming tomorrow I think I’ll be busy.’ Kesta told them. ‘Although I am happy to provide another prize if you want to compete among yourselves?’
‘No, we have had our contest, and it was a pleasure; now fair is fair and we’ll get some more work done for you tomorrow. This place should never have been so neglected. Tantony is a great commander in a battle, none better, but administrating a stronghold takes a different kind of planning. The Than—’
‘Barrel is coming!’ One of the warriors interrupted quickly.
‘It’s good to have you here, Lady, is what I mean to say.’ Adrin gave a small bow and then hurried off toward his barrel with his retinue of warriors in tow.
‘What do you think?’ Rosa asked as she re-joined her.
‘I’m not sure yet,’ Kesta said slowly. Her eyes followed Adrin and while she did feel a flush of attraction, the hairs on her arms also prickled warningly. ‘Come on, let’s go find Tantony and see what we need to do for the king’s visit.’
***
Kesta found herself standing in her room looking across to the Raven Tower. As always, light flickered behind the glass. Reluctantly she tore herself away and went down the tower stairs to join the other two.
‘You look nice this evening,’ Rosa said.
Kesta touched her red dress. ‘I should probably do something about getting myself some more clothes.’
‘Talking of suitable clothing I made these while you were working.’ Rosa went over to a chair and lifted up some trousers. ‘If any of the ladies of the queen’s court catch me wearing these, I’ll be ostracised for life!’
‘Can you make me some?’ Catya asked at once.
‘Well, I should think so.’ Rosa looked from the girl back to Kesta.
‘Wear what you want.’ Kesta shrugged. ‘I won’t be ostracising anyone! I’m not interested in ‘court’ or what people think of me.’
‘Queen Ayline …’ Rosa bit her lip.
‘Go on,’ Kesta prompted.
‘She keeps a tight hold on the ladies of her court and her influence over who has favour and power changes fortunes and lives. I would just … I would just warn you to be wary not to make an enemy of her. Even though Bractius and Jorrun are close, she could make life very unpleasant for you.’
‘And for you,’ Kesta said quietly. ‘I will be mindful of that.’
She heard a door close below and the barely perceptible sound of Jorrun’s steps on the stairs. For such a tall man he walked very lightly, more like a hunter or scout than a warrior. She stood at once and met him in the doorway.
‘Any more news?’ she asked.
‘Some.’ He gestured for her to proceed him up the stairs and didn’t speak again until they were in her room with the door closed. ‘We’ve received a longer, more detailed missive from the Fulmers. The Icante, it seems, had a disturbing confrontation with one of the necromancers.’
Kesta tensed. ‘Is she all right? She wasn’t hurt?’
Jorrun held up a hand. ‘She is well. I’m going to tell you a little about Chem. I want you with me tomorrow when I talk with the king and it will help you if you know more about the necromancers.’
Kesta nodded, although all she wanted to hear was what had happened to her mother.
Jorrun drew in a deep breath. ‘In Chem political power and magical power amount to the same thing. There are several powerful families and many more of lesser ability, all competing to rule Chem. In the capital City of Arkoom there is a palace with a council chamber of fifteen Seats; those that hold the Seats rule Chem. To take a Seat the sorcerer who holds it and all, or most, of his followers and family must be killed by the challenger and his ‘coven’. Through planning, deceit, and pure power all of those Seats are now held by what you call ‘necromancers’; ones who use blood magic. There is no one strong enough to oppose them and take
from them a Seat, anyone who did would be dead in moments as the other necromancers would destroy them. It’s the first time there has ever been an alliance between covens and it was engineered by a Lord called Dryn Dunham. It was not he that your mother confronted but his nephew who himself has a coven and holds a seat in Arkoom; Argen Dunham.’ He paused to look at Kesta and her blood run cold. ‘Whether now or later, Chem intends to take the Fulmers.’
Kesta leapt to her feet with her hands clenched into fists.
‘Kesta, I won’t let it happen.’
‘But how can you stop them? Just you! Just you against fifteen necromancers that their own people can’t depose!’
‘Two assaults on the Fulmers have now been repelled. My guess is their plans for the Fulmers will now be put on hold until Elden is conquered, and I am dead.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I am a slave, Kesta.’
‘A slave?’ She shook her head, but his expression remained perfectly serious. ‘You helped my mother and our warriors defeat them, didn’t you? How did you do that? Not by dream-walking.’
‘No, not by dream-walking.’
‘Why won’t you tell me anything? I hate you!’
Jorrun flinched as though she’d struck him and Kesta bit her lip in shock that she’d gone that far. She was so angry though that lights danced before her eyes and her blood pounded in her ears.
Jorrun closed his eyes. ‘I will tell you everything when I can, Kesta, more than you will want to hear, that I promise you.’
‘If I find that anything you hold back has put my people at ris—’
‘I am doing everything I can to protect our people.’
‘How can I believe that?’
He didn’t reply, and she took a moment to look at him, really look. He looked exhausted.
With a cry of exasperation, she went over to where Rosa had tidied away their glasses and poured what she guessed to be brandy from a decanter. She placed a glass in front of Jorrun and sat back down.
She took in a deep breath. ‘Why are you not able to tell me things?’
‘It is the command of King Bractius and his father before him that what I am and what I do remain a secret. It is also self-preservation on my part. Knowing even as much as you do would turn people in Elden against me and … warn Chem that I am alive. Already I am sure they suspect.’ He paused to study her face. ‘So, you hate me.’
Kesta felt her blood burning her throat and cheeks and she looked away. ‘I didn’t mean that. But why would Chem care that you’re alive if you’re just a slave?’
He looked at her but didn’t speak.
Kesta growled at him, then laughed and drank back her brandy. ‘Very well. You look like you need to sleep, and I certainly do. Will we speak tomorrow with the king visiting?’
Jorrun sat back in his chair and rubbed at his beard with two fingers. ‘I’ll probably not have a chance to come here but as I said I intend for us both to take council with the king.’
‘Thank you for that much.’
‘You should have been a queen, Kesta, or an Icante as you call them. I will always give you the respect owed to such.’
She swallowed and shifted in her chair, looking down at her hands.
‘I will leave you.’ He stood. ‘We will entertain the king privately. It’s not unusual for he and I to consult one another and dine alone. Good night, Kesta.’
‘Good night.’ She found herself wanting to apologise for losing her temper but couldn’t find the words. It was so frustrating though, being kept in the dark, but despite everything there was a rebellious part of her that couldn’t help starting to like Jorrun, slave or no.
Chapter Eight
Dia: Fulmer Isle
Dia read through the crumpled letter again; her temper hadn’t subsided in the two days since she’d received it. She stood up and paced the room, trying to understand her husband’s decision but no matter how many times she re-read it she couldn’t forgive him. Other than confiding in Worvig, she’d managed to keep her temper under control and hadn’t as yet revealed to the clans that they’d lost their intended Icante heir. It would not go down well.
One of her gulls had reported that Arrus was less than an hour away from the islands. As yet they’d sighted no other ships and the location of the necromancer who had spoken through the severed head hadn’t been found. The chieftains of each clan were getting restless and irritable, wanting something to fight and hating that their quarry was hiding behind magic. Was this necromancer alone somewhere? Or was he on a ship with an army of undead warriors?
She crumpled the letter again and tossed it into a chest in the corner of the room. She looked around again, her room seemed suddenly dark and enclosing.
‘Fetch Worvig; we’ll go and meet Arrus,’ she told Pirelle.
The young Walker put down her sewing and left quickly without a word. Dia found the twins outside her door and gestured for them to follow.
‘What’s happening?’ One of the warriors demanded as the three women crossed the main hall.
‘Just going to meet my husband; we’ll hold counsel when I return. Ah, Worvig!’ The broad-chested man was strapping a large axe to his back as he stepped up to join her. ‘Your brother is on his way with the Elden ships.’
‘Should we not get some of the warriors together to meet theirs?’
‘Considering what has occurred, I wish to demonstrate the importance of our women to these Eldemen.’
Worvig glanced back at Heara and Shaherra, both heavily armed with their gleaming black hair tied back in long braids.
‘And I wish to speak with Arrus before all is revealed to the chieftains.’
‘As do I,’ Worvig grumbled.
Dia gritted her teeth. She couldn’t bear to begin to think what her daughter might be going through, left alone in Elden and sold off to that sorcerer. Kesta was strong and clever, she knew that, but she was her little girl; her fire-hearted child. She felt the heat of her own anger on her skin but even so, a chill ran down her spine. Was Kesta even still alive? Or had her explosive temper got her in trouble? Her breath caught, and she almost stumbled, her hand going to her chest. Would that man use sorcery to subdue her, beat her, kill her?
Beside her Pirelle gently touched her arm, and she drew in a deep breath, glancing at her apprentice with a smile of thanks. She clenched her hands into fists and then forced them to relax.
***
The stronghold had a small harbour far below it in a wide cove, but it was too shallow for the two large Elden ships to come in to the wharf. Dia stood proud and unmoving as three small boats rowed in toward her. She recognised her husband’s shape at once, his hair blacker than any of the Eldemen around him, his shoulders broader. For the most part the people of the Fulmers were willowy, but not Arrus and his brother. They were giants on the Isles, a throwback to some Borrow blood somewhere in their ancestry. She opened up her knowing, welcoming the familiar and comforting feel of her husband at the same time as feeling furious with him. His dark skin looked almost grey; his head was bowed, shoulders slumped. He didn’t look like a triumphant warrior who had succeeded in his mission; he looked like a father whose heart had been broken.
‘Dia.’ Her name was said with so much emotion as he leapt from the boat to the wharf that, despite their audience, Dia hurried forward to take his hand. He could barely dare to look at her and yet he was a strong man, and honest, so he did. ‘I lost our daughter.’
‘I know,’ she whispered, her own pain sharp in her chest.
He drew in a deep breath and straightened his back. ‘Icante, may I introduce to you Merkis Vilnue, he commands the men the king has sent.’
One of the men from the boat came forward and gave a low and polite bow. ‘Icante, it’s my honour to fight with you. I’ve been instructed by my king that until he calls for my withdrawal, I am under your command.’
‘The islands thank you for your assistance.’ Dia called upon all her pride and authority, pushing
it out with her knowing. She saw the man’s pupils widen a little. So, he liked a powerful woman. ‘We’ve made room in our stronghold to house thirty of your men and a chamber that might suit you unless you intend to remain on your ship? The rest of your warriors will have to camp here on the beach.’
‘I’d be grateful for a room in your stronghold,’ Vilnue replied. He looked curiously at the twins and Pirelle, nodding politely to Worvig. He had long sandy hair and a short beard that showed streaks of grey; he was almost as tall as Arrus and Worvig but didn’t have their bulk. ‘I’ll let the men stretch their legs on shore until you give us our orders to sail out; but we’ll maintain a small camp here when the ships go.’
‘I will have food and drink sent down here,’ Dia replied. She’d expected a little more resistance from the Elden warriors to being commanded by a woman, yet this Merkis seemed to take it in his stride. He’d been assigned to her command, and he accepted that; a soldier through and through.
‘We’ve brought our own rations, but fresh provisions would be gratefully received.’ The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile.
‘If you’ll follow me I’ll show you to the stronghold.’ Dia remained straight-faced. ‘Worvig Silene will remain on the beach to direct your men.’
Worvig opened his mouth to protest but Arrus elbowed him in the ribs.
‘The chieftains of the islands have gathered here to take counsel.’ Dia gestured for Vilnue to walk with her. He quickly turned to one of the warriors.
‘Get the men to set up camp here, but leave the ships crewed. Graph, Borra, you two come with me!’
Two of the Elden warriors scurried forward and fell in somewhat awkwardly behind Heara and Shaherra. Shaherra made a show of flicking her long braid back over her shoulder and flexing her muscles, resting her hand on her belt near one of her knives.
‘We’ll give you a couple of hours to settle your men and then we’ll commence our council of war.’ Dia went on as she walked. Arrus stepped up beside Pirelle but remained silent. ‘It’s a bit crowded in the stronghold at the moment, but it’s a necessary discomfort.’
