by Martin Ash
Plainly, both shafts had been intended for my flesh, not his. Sheer chance had saved me, and robbed poor Hectal of his life. Angered, and afraid, I let his body go and rolled into the bushes. Then, rising to a half-crouch, I dashed further into cover. No more of the lethal missiles came my way. I was out of sight of my assailants, and they, having seen me fall, possibly believed me to be lying dead or wounded behind the rock.
The ground rose sharply, rocks and vegetation providing ample cover. I scrambled upward as quietly as I could, my heart pounding. I kept going, seeking the higher ground where I might have an advantage. The bushes broke. On my belly I crawled forward so that I could look down upon the glade. I saw Hectal’s corpse sprawled beside the rock. Nothing moved; nothing made a sound.
I cast my eyes around me. A little way below me, somewhat off to one side, a man crouched on the steep slope beside a tree. He held a crossbow, levelled as he squinted down at the glade, and he wore the livery of a Ravenscrag guard. I could see no one else.
I unclasped my belt, and drew out the razor-sharp garrotting wire concealed inside. Carefully, I moved around until the soldier’s back was to me. A distance of ten paces separated us. I half rose to creep forward. As I moved my foot dislodged a stone. The man glanced back, and saw me. His mouth opened; he started to rise, bringing the crossbow around.
I had no choice. I threw myself forward, kicking out with all my weight. The kick connected with the man’s shoulder. Half erect, he was knocked sideways and smashed into a tree trunk. I fell on my back. The soldier slipped, lost his footing, and with a cry fell flailing down the slope. He came to rest fifteen yards below me, and lay motionless, his head at a grotesque angle, the neck plainly broken.
I cursed. I’d wanted his weapons. I couldn’t now risk exposing myself by scrambling down to relieve him of them. I darted back into cover, then called out at the top of my voice, ‘Monsard!’
There was no reply. I called again. This time Darean Monsard’s harsh, cutting voice sounded from somewhere below me on the other side of the glade. ‘Aye, Merchant, it is me.’
‘You try to murder me? You are exceeding your orders!’
I moved along the slope, keeping to cover.
Monsard called back. ‘You’re trying to escape!’
‘Not so. I’m seeking Moonblood.’
I moved again, not wanting to be pinpointed. ‘If you kill me you risk the destruction of Ravenscrag!’
‘You tried to escape. I found you. You resisted with force. I was obliged to slay you, unfortunately. It’s well within the scope of my orders.’ Monsard had also moved. He was slightly higher up, moving around the glade towards my position.
‘You have murdered Lady Sheerquine’s twin brother. Is that also within the scope of your orders?’
Hesitation, then: ‘You lie, Merchant. It was you who killed the old halfwit. I caught you and tried to save him, but it was too late. You are a fiend. Perhaps you have also murdered Moonblood. Lady Sheerquine, no matter her grief at the loss of her dear brother, will thank me when I return with your head.’
There was an edge in his voice, something I’d not heard before. I sensed more than the usual lofty sarcasm and disdain. Now his voice had a harsh and furious quality that sent a shiver down my spine.
Could he know about Cametta and I?
I caught my breath. Cametta! Was she alive?
I fought down my emotion. I had to get away. I didn’t know how many men Darean Monsard had out there; even now they might be closing in on me. I crawled away into the underbrush. Rising to my feet when I judged I’d put a reasonable distance between myself and Darean Monsard, I made off as quickly as I could into the depths of the forest.
~
I followed the bed of a small stream, stopped a couple of times, watched and listened. There were no sounds of pursuit. I moved on. I was shaking from exertion, from fear, from sheer helpless rage at Hectal’s needless death. I was desperately concerned for Cametta. My limbs burned, and my lungs were scorched from the effort of running and climbing.
I paused to soak my arms and head in the cool water. I felt a prickling of the hairs along the back of my neck. The conviction grew on me that I was not alone. I straightened slowly, peering about me.
Twenty feet distant, seated cross-legged on a twisted oak root, was a young man garbed in green. He looked to be of slightly above average height, with lean but athletic limbs, slim waist and broad chest and shoulders. His skin was pale, with wide-set eyes, a slender nose, wide mouth and even jaw and chin. Fair hair protruded from beneath a green cap set with a panache of partridge feathers. He was quite handsome, and gave an impression of easy self-possession and charmed amusement. He wore a light green blouson, green waistcoat and hose of good cloth, and low boots of soft leather. He carried no visible weapon, save a hunting-knife at his belt.
We returned each other’s gaze for some moments, he smiling, holding the neck of a leather flask between his fingers. I took a deep breath. ‘You are Linvon, called Linvon the Light.’
The young man’s smile broadened. ‘I know that already.’ He held out the flask. ‘You look tired. Come, share my watered wine and rest for a moment.’
I considered, scanning the nearby terrain. I sensed no threat or malice from this youth, yet I was in the presence of the unknown, lost in the depths of the forest, wholly unsure of myself. And there was an unusual aura of the unworldly about him.
Linvon seemed aware of my disquiet. He unplugged the flask and raised it to his lips, swallowing a draught. ‘See, it’s not poisoned.’
I approached slowly. ‘I’m hunted. I was ambushed by Ravenscrag soldiers.’
‘But you escaped, and they’re not close.’
‘They murdered Hectal.’
Shock scoured the young man’s face. He blinked several times and looked down, shook his head. ‘I didn’t realize. Hectal… He was looking for me. I told him never to come into the forest.’
‘He showed me the secret way from the castle.’
Linvon nodded. ‘I guessed he would.’
‘Then you were expecting me to come?’
‘I thought it likely.’ He watched me with brilliant, alert, and now sorrowful blue eyes, than looked away. ‘Oh, Hectal, you poor, good-hearted fool…’
I took the flask and drank, savouring its coolness in my gullet. ‘You’re wanted at Castle Ravenscrag for theft, and more.’
Linvon rubbed the side of his nose with a bitter smile. ‘Hmph! Old Flarefist still holds to that canard, does he?’
‘Canard?’
‘I can assure you, sir, I didn’t steal Flarefist’s silver.’
‘Then who did?’
‘No one. It was never stolen.’
‘Flarefist is lying? I don’t think so.’
‘No. It was a gift, presented by Flarefist himself, to me.’
‘A gift? Do you think me so credulous?’
‘Perhaps not a gift, exactly.’ His blue eyes twinkled. ‘More a bribe, to encourage – no, persuade me to depart Ravenscrag and, in particular, to see nothing more of his daughter.’
‘I think Flarefist believes otherwise.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me. He is quite deranged. But please don’t doubt that I’m telling the truth. I’m no thief. How is Flarefist now, by the way?’
‘He’s a broken old man – but far from harmless.’
‘Quite. I’ve seen something of what he’s capable of. Though he initially welcomed me into his household as an entertainer, it soon became plain that my life was at risk if I remained.’
‘You’re fortunate that he allowed you the opportunity to leave.’
‘He wouldn’t risk murdering me, except as a last resort. Word might somehow have got back to Moonblood, and he knew she would never forgive him. But the offer of relative wealth…’ Linvon took three coloured balls from his waistcoat pocket. He tossed them into the air, passing them swiftly from one hand to the other, back and forth, bouncing them from his forehead, letting them
run the length of his arms as if they possessed a life of their own. ‘I’m a poor travelling entertainer. I earn my bread where I can, rarely staying in one place longer than it takes to earn enough to travel on. Often my life is hard; truly, I’m little more than a pauper, though occasionally the takings can be good. Flarefist perceived quite rightly that a gift of valuables sufficient to greatly improve my living standard for months to come might well be acceptable. So he summoned me to his room, stated his terms, and swept up what items came to hand.’
‘Yet you remained.’
‘I left Ravenscrag, as was Lord Flarefist’s stipulation.’
‘But continued clandestinely to see Moonblood.’
Linvon gathered the coloured balls, made a fluid motion with his hands. The balls vanished. ‘It’s true, we continued to meet, though never inside the castle. We love each other. We can’t be parted, not for all the world’s silver.’
‘And now you’ve abducted her. Or did she run away to be with you?’
Linvon settled his blue gaze intently upon me. ‘I have rescued her, sir… I’m sorry, what is your name?’
‘Dinbig.’
‘Dinbig. That’s an unusual name.’
‘So I’m told.’
‘Well, Sir Dinbig, I have rescued her, both from her tyrannical parents and from a greater, unknown evil that venges itself upon her and her house.’
‘And the infant, Redlock?’
‘I tried, but I was too late. The influence had already taken effect.’
‘Where is Moonblood now?’
‘She’s safe.’
‘I must see her.’
‘Why?’
Despite your efforts, however sincere, I don’t think she is safe merely because she’s beyond Ravenscrag’s ramparts. Nor will she be until we have understood the nature of the evil that clings to her, and vanquished it.’
Linvon looked at me gravely. I said, ‘You already know that, don’t you? You knew I would come. You met me here, and you knew I’d be coming for Moonblood.’
He looked away, his expression revealing his anxiety. ‘She’s not herself.’
‘No. She has, I fear, come under the effects of an ancient malignity know by some as Molgane’s Bane. What do you know of what’s happening at Ravenscrag?’
He shook his head. ‘There are many gaps in my understanding. Far too many. Most recently I’ve learned more, though I’m still unsure.’
‘Tell me what you know.’
Linvon plugged the stopper back into his flask. ‘There’s something you should hear, but it should be recounted by another, who has more to tell than I.’ He unfolded his legs and slipped with an easy grace from the oak root. ‘Come.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Linvon moved with surefootedness across the rough forest floor, gliding through dense vegetation, around outcrops of rock and towering trees, following no visible path. I struggled to keep up.
We walked for perhaps an hour. Glimpsing the sky I divined from the position of the sun that midday was well past. I felt a shiver of misgiving: Shadownight drew ever closer. I dreaded the setting of the sun.
As we walked I prompted Linvon to tell me everything he’d experienced at Ravenscrag, particular with regard to Redlock’s and Moonblood’s disappearances. This he did, willingly and, as far as I could gauge, withholding little or nothing.
He explained how he had arrived at Ravenscrag some two months earlier, by sheer chance, so he believed. He had travelled there with a man from Dasmere, a small Wansirian town a couple of days’ ride away, where he had passed most of the winter. The man was visiting a sick relative, and Linvon, eager for change, had easily negotiated a ride in his cart.
‘Why Ravenscrag?’ Linvon posed the question half to himself. ‘My driver warned me it was a godforsaken place. His advice, and the advice of others, was to travel east into Jihrango, where there were greater opportunities to be had for a vagabond entertainer such as I. Or I could have stayed in Dasmere. I’d made good friends there, dallied with comely girls, and earned a passable living. Yet something about it... the very name… something I couldn’t wholly explain, convinced me I should come to Ravenscrag. And when I arrived…’
His first sight of Ravenscrag had sent a quiver down his spine, he said. ‘It was as though I knew it, as though I’d been here before… and yet, not like that.’
He scratched his head, at a loss to explain. This feeling, he went on, was reinforced the longer he stayed there: ‘The people I met, the buildings, the streets. It all seemed familiar. Its very history seemed familiar. I was haunted by the feel of the place, by names I heard mentioned. It felt right that I should be there, and at the same time I was unsettled.’
And then he was invited up to the castle. ‘Now I knew that I’d entered a mystery beyond my understanding. I still couldn’t explain it, yet I was no stranger to this place. I knew its ancient walls and its myriad passages, courtyards and hallways. I’d been here before, or had been told of it in great detail. Yet I had no memory of either. Perhaps, I thought, I’ve lived here in another life.’
I stared at him curiously, a notion forming in my mind as I recalled disconsolate words spoken to me only hours earlier.
‘And yet that was not it!’ continued Linvon. ‘For I knew the people too, though I’d never met them before. Flarefist, the pregnant Sheerquine, her lack-wit twin, the old astrologer… and Moonblood. Most of all, Moonblood. Ah yes, and the child, too, who had yet to be born. I knew of him. Most particularly, I felt something about his imminent birth, and I was disquieted without knowing why.
‘Talk, of course, was all of the forthcoming birth, and of the Ravenscrag Prophecy. When I heard of the prophecy, again I felt unease, but again, though I searched within myself, I could not discover a reason why.
I was in no doubt now. Lord Draremont’s shade had said, just before we parted: I tried again, dispatching another to Ravenscrag… But this one was also lost, swayed and seduced it would seem by the temptations of corporeality. I don’t know what became of him.
‘It was as though all my life I’d been lost, searching for something,’ said Linvon. ‘And at last I’d found it. Without knowing how or why, I’d arrived where I was meant to be. Yet being here did not make me feel comfortable. Rather, I was confused, unnerved in ways I couldn’t articulate.’
I nodded to myself. Linvon. He was the other shade, the kindred spirt of poor, dead Hectal, who had returned to life in an effort to save Ravenscrag. Hence his unworldly aura. He felt promptings, was haunted by strange memories, fears and uncertainties, and did not know why. He did not know who he was!
‘And you became enamoured of Moonblood,’ I said, ‘Or was that also mere dalliance?’
Linvon emphatically shook his head. ‘Ah, Moonblood, sweet Moonblood. So fair, such a dream… She stirred my blood and stole my heart. Never have I been so captivated. And I found it was so for her, too. Initially she was shy – as, I confess, was I. She was amused by my entertainments. In truth I know but a handful of simple tricks, little more than illusion, sleight of hand, misdirection, but she took them for true magic. And I divined that she had magic within her. Magic of a very special kind.
‘We started to meet at every opportunity. We’d much to say to each other. I questioned her about the Ravenscrag prophecy, and discovered that she was troubled. She was haunted by eerie dreams and forebodings, irrational fears, profound misgivings about herself. When I questioned her about her dreams I received another shock, for they were similar in great part to dreams that I had had.’
‘What was the content of these dreams?’
‘They centred around what you’ve already spoken of as the curse, or bane, of Ravenscrag: Molgane’s Bane. They involved the birth of a monstrosity, of carnage and awful destruction. In Moonblood’s case she often saw herself as the cause of that destruction. She told me she would wake in the night in a state of nervous distraction, convinced she was the unwitting agent of some terrible malevolence. And she had anot
her recurring nightmare, linked to this one, in which she was pursued by a red-faced sorcerer of some kind, garbed in dark robes. Each time she dreamed of him he came closer, though he never succeeded in catching her. She had until now kept these things to herself. She feared, should she attempt to confide in anyone, she would be ridiculed or dismissed as hysterical. And in her waking hours the dreams didn’t trouble her, though she often thought about them.’
‘So neither of you did anything about it?’
He turned his handsome young face earnestly to me. ‘What was there to be done, Master Dinbig? Two young people, haunted by things we couldn’t explain… who would take notice? We grew closer as a result, and our fears also grew, but we still tried to convince ourselves that what we were experiencing was some uncanny kind of trick of our imaginations. We feared we might be mad otherwise. And then I was summoned before Flarefist. I learned of his and Sheerquine’s disapproval of our relationship. Moonblood was now forbidden to see me again; I was informed that I was no longer welcome in Ravenscrag. When I remonstrated, Flarefist became irate. That was when he made his threats clear, and gave me the silver.’
‘Tell me about the night of Redlock’s birth. What happened, to Redlock and then Moonblood?’
Linvon held up a finger. ‘Presently. As I said, there’s another who has much to tell.’
We had broken out of the forest gloom and stood at the edge of a sunlit green meadow spotted with myriad wild flowers. A grass track led to a small cottage beside a shaded pool. The cottage looked untenanted, with an air of disuse and neglect. Dirty white walls supported a steep gabled roof of sagging thatch, out of which sprouted a wealth of grass and weeds. The garden was overgrown, and at the back of the cottage the forest loomed hard. Young saplings and dense thickets of undergrowth grew almost to the walls: initial stages before the cottage became entirely engulfed.
Linvon struck out along the track. As we drew closer a figure came from around the side of the cottage and stood beside a tall shrub, watching us. I stared, only half-believing what I saw, stumbling as I walked on at Linvon’s back.
