by A. J. Smith
There was general agreement that I was currently a shambling mess of a man, and should be left alone. Leofryc, Jack and Elizabeth whispered their concern, but the Pure One and the Outrider Knights were stoic in their muted response. Gradually, everyone present left the stone room, with Silver Jack the last to leave, glancing back at me and closing the door with a metallic clank.
I rolled away from the vomit and lay on my back. Blinking rapidly, with a rumbling headache, I coughed and spat on the carpet, trying to get the revolting taste from my mouth. I felt no better now I was alone. Even the embarrassment of flailing around in front of fellow Winterlords did little to distract me from an acute feeling of mental and physical sickness. What had happened to me? I could recall a few images – mostly childhood memories of First Port – but no clear sense of the vision I’d seen. Marius said I’d see the Sunken God, but I couldn’t remember seeing anything clearly… just a strange and unexpected sense of devotion.
After a few minutes of heavy breathing, I spat a final time, and flexed my jaw. Within my clothes there was a layer of sweat, and dried tears covered my face, though I managed to sit up. I noticed the room for the first time, but didn’t remember how I came to be here. It was a large bed chamber of grey stone, with brown mahogany furniture, so dark it was almost black. There was a bed, covered in thick, black sheets. Two armchairs, facing each other, and a tall wardrobe, next to a closed window. There was also a free-standing washbasin. I clambered to my feet, using the armchair as a crutch, and staggered to the basin. I plunged both hands into the cool water, and splashed my face. It took three further splashes to regain my focus, and a final cough to clear my throat.
Just as I looked at the bed and began to contemplate sleep, there was a pounding on the dark wooden door. I rubbed my eyes, wanting peace and quiet to try and remember what I’d seen, but they’d given me barely ten minutes. The dark, wooden door opened suddenly, with the same metallic clank, and a man stepped confidently inside. It was Quinn, the hawk-faced Outrider. He’d not been in the room when I’d woken from the vision, and entered now with his head bowed.
“Eagle Prince,” said the Dark Brethren. “I am eager to sit with you and talk. May I?” He motioned to the second armchair.
I tried to speak, but coughed instead, spraying phlegm across the carpet. “Yes, sit,” I replied, rubbing my neck.
Quinn closed the door and took a seat. He still wore his red-and-black armour, though not his sword belt, and was kind enough to avert his eyes from me, as I slumped onto the opposite armchair. “You appear well,” said the horizon-walker. “Better than many of my people suspected.”
“They thought the vision would drive me mad?” I asked. “Perhaps none of you have met a man of the Dawn Claw.”
“I’m pleased to see they were wrong,” replied Quinn.
“Though I don’t remember what I saw. Just flashes and memories, and a… strange feeling. Like I’m forgetting something.” I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. “Apologies, I am not at my best. Now… Marius said you were eager to talk to me.”
“Indeed,” he replied. “Tell me, Prince Oliver, do you know of the great turtle spirits of the Father?”
His stare was unwavering, as if he were a circling bird of prey and I was a small rodent. “Not really,” I replied. “Only stories. What do old turtle spirits have to do with anything?”
He pulled himself to the edge of his armchair and craned forwards, appearing to loom over me. “I met a great turtle spirit when I was a boy,” said Quinn. “It told me something. Would you believe they see time in reverse? It’s true, though their wisdom is rarely given. They speak so slowly that you may have to wait months to hear a full sentence, and even then it’ll barely make sense. It is said that Ten Cuts sat in front of one for twenty-three years, and that he remembers every word.”
“He knows the future?” I replied, my scratchy throat gradually clearing. “You know the future?”
Quinn shook his head. “You know only what you hear. Granted, Ten Cuts heard more than most, but he would never claim to know the future. Only certain things that are inevitable.”
“And you?” I asked. “What did you hear?”
He didn’t blink, or turn his head. “I heard that… in the thirty-third year of my life, I will guide the Eagle Prince into the void,” he replied. “And the Eagle Prince will return as a saviour. I have spent my life with this knowledge, and it has informed almost everything I have done. I was thirty-three last week and I am a horizon-walker, as skilled beyond the glass as any Eastron, and ready to take you wherever you need to go, Prince Oliver. I wanted to talk to you before the vision, but Marius insisted otherwise.”
“And where will you lead me?” I asked.
He chuckled. It was the only expression I’d seen from him that didn’t look predatory, and it quickly disappeared. “That I was not told,” he replied, leaning back in the leather armchair. “That is something you will decide.” He glanced around the room and nodded at the large bed. “But you have time. Rest. If only for a few hours. The tenth void legion marches from the east, and the eleventh comes from Ghost Fort, but Snake Guard will be silent for two or three days. We may even leave for the Dark Harbour before they get here.”
*
When I emerged from the chamber, I entered a grey, stone world, filled with red-and-black armour. I’d not slept and was still tired, though my mind had calmed. I had to push my massive frame through narrow corridors, turning left and right as Quinn directed, until we emerged under an evening sky, with battlements filling my eyeline, and Dark Brethren warriors at ground level. I still couldn’t recall the vision, though my thoughts were not disturbed. On the contrary, my mood was elevated, as if the spirit-whistle had cleared all my anxieties. And still there was a feeling of devotion… though I couldn’t pinpoint what I was now devoted to.
From along the eastern battlements, rushing towards Quinn and I, came Leofryc and Silver Jack, with Marius and Gentle following behind. The Outrider Knights had furnished my attendants with new steel armour, though they were barely more than breastplates, and far less protection than Winterlord knights customarily wore. Leofryc still had his greatsword, and someone had given Jack a proper broadsword. For the first time since the Silver Parliament, they both looked like Winterlords.
“My king,” said Leofryc, taking a knee in front of me, and eliciting a snigger from Jack. “Bless the Dawn Claw you are whole.”
I tried to smile, but it must have appeared more like a twitch or a grimace.
“At least you’ve stopped puking,” added Silver Jack. “Who knew a bloody Pure One’s spirit-whistle could bring Oliver Dawn Claw to his knees?” He was far less extravagant than Leofryc, but seemed equally happy to see me up and about. “Are you going to tell us what you saw?”
I placed my hands on his shoulders and shook my head. “I don’t remember,” I replied. “I think I will in time.”
“They say we’re bound for the Dark Harbour,” offered Leofryc. “These Outriders are to be a rearguard of sorts against multiple void legions.”
Jack grumbled to himself, as if reluctantly accepting that he wouldn’t be going home, at least for the foreseeable future. “These are strange people,” said my guardian. “Stranger than any Brethren I’ve met. The armourer who gave me this sword called himself a Dolcinite Pilgrim. And we’re going with them?”
“We are,” I replied, glancing at Quinn, who’d chosen to stand behind me and not interact with my two attendants. “There is much that needs doing to save the Eastron. Though I have apparently somewhere else to go first.”
There was a polite cough from Marius Cyclone. “If I may, gentleman?” asked the Stranger, eliciting a respectful nod from Leofryc. “It’s good to see you awake, Prince Oliver. I trust you are no worse for the experience?”
“I feel quite well, thank you. Though I don’t remember the vision.”
“That’s normal,” he replied. “I assume Quinn ignored my instructions to wait a day or two a
nd let you remember?”
I again glanced at the horizon-walker behind me. His head was now bowed, as if he didn’t want to make eye contact with Marius Cyclone.
“He was eager,” I said. “And I’m glad he was. Now I know that I am intended as a saviour as well as a king. Something that should perhaps be dealt with before we flee to the Dark Harbour.”
Marius gave me a slow nod, though I saw his jaw tighten again at my assumption of royalty. “Well, let us hope Lucio Wind Claw and his sister will give us the time. He and Alexis loom over several legions, two of which are marching on us.” He turned to look south-east, across the battlements, to the low, rolling plains between us and the Dark Harbour. “At least they’re busy with Snake Guard. Every hour they spend trying to hunt us down, another ship of innocents can evacuate my hold unmolested.”
“You just need to decide where I will take you, Eagle Prince,” added Quinn, keeping his head bowed. “I would recommend sleep and meditation.”
20
I was devoted to something. At the corners of my mind was a certainty that only complete faith could provide. Eastron didn’t have faith in things unseen; the thought should have made me sick, but it didn’t. It made me strong and I felt as if a warm blanket of protection was draped around my kingly shoulders. It wasn’t my father, it wasn’t the Dawn Claw, it wasn’t the might of the Eastron from across the sea. I couldn’t grasp it, for it was something far beyond us. Was this a usual side-effect of Ten Cuts’ spirit-whistle?
As I made my way back within the cavernous stone passageways of Snake Guard, intending to follow Quinn’s advice, I was surprised at the reactions I received from the Outrider Knights. I was used to being the centre of attention, with everyone reacting to my presence, but these strange Dark Brethren took it to extremes. Every step I took, around the perimeter of Snake Guard, I was greeted by bowed heads, with few black-and-red clad warriors prepared to speak to me, and yet I sensed that they were not perturbed by my presence. On the contrary, they acted as if I belonged, as if they were grateful for something I’d yet to do. This evidently came from Quinn, who’d told Gentle and others of his destiny, and who in turn had absolute trust in the horizon-walker’s story. He would lead the Eagle Prince into the void, and the Eagle Prince would return as a saviour. As intriguing as this was, I found myself with a greater concern – not a single person here appeared to recognize me as king, certainly not Marius. I was not addressed as the Eagle King, or even King Oliver. It brought an irritated twitch to my eye whenever anyone other than Leofryc addressed me.
I intended to return to my chamber and ponder these things, perhaps even remember the vision, when I was summoned to the north-eastern corner of the hold, where some kind of commotion had gathered a significant group of Outriders. A ring of Dark Brethren faced the huge, wooden gates and were shouting at someone. It was the most animated I’d seen anyone in red-and-black armour, outside of combat, though I couldn’t tell why until Leofryc, Jack and I reached ground level.
“What the bloody hell has he done now?” sneered Silver Jack, as it became clear the Outriders were shouting at Rys Coldfire.
The Wolf’s Bastard and Elizabeth Defiant stood by the gate, with several unconscious Brethren slumped on the flagstone ground. The Sea Wolf had found some new leather armour and been given a falchion, though the blade had not been drawn. His fists were clenched and he stood facing down a dozen Outriders, none of whom appeared to know how to deal with him. Neither Gentle nor Quinn were there, but Straya and Marius Cyclone stood to the side, sharing an exasperated expression. I could almost hear the Stranger muttering Sea Wolves! under his breath.
“Prince Oliver,” shouted Marius, when he noticed our approach. “I apologize for delaying your rest and meditation, but we’d be awfully grateful if you’d assist. It appears Master Coldfire is none too fond of Dark Brethren.”
“What is happening here?” demanded Leofryc, as the three of us met the Stranger and approached the gatehouse.
The Outriders parted, but only because I glared at anyone who didn’t get out of my way. It seemed to be the best way to convey my feelings. I had little skill with words, but I knew I was important, and used that fact to reach the poised Sea Wolf and the fearful envoy.
“Oliver, please,” said Elizabeth Defiant, “this has gotten completely out of hand.”
Jack crouched down next to one of three unconscious Brethren and inspected a massive red mark on his chin. “By the bloody Bright Lands,” said my guardian. “Did he insult your mother? You probably knocked out a few of his immediate family with that punch.”
“Fuck off,” replied the Wolf’s Bastard. He straightened, though his glare didn’t soften. He looked healthy and well rested, and as dangerous as any Eastron I’d ever met.
“What happened?” I asked Elizabeth. “What started the fight?”
She regained some composure and smiled at Rys. “We want to leave,” she replied. “I understand that you wish to remain here, but Rys and I have other duties. Duties that lie elsewhere.”
“Unwise,” observed Marius, eliciting a snarl from the Sea Wolf. He and Straya were the only Brethren allowed to approach, and the Wolf’s Bastard seemed always to have one eye looking at them.
“I don’t believe we asked your opinion,” said Elizabeth.
“Or your fucking permission,” added Rys. “My wyrd is my own, and it flows as I choose. Stay here and talk everyone to death, but I’m leaving. Anyone else tries to stop me or Elizabeth and I will lose my patience.” He grasped the hilt of his new falchion, making it clear that next time people would die.
I stood closer to my old teacher and spoke quietly. “There’s a void legion that way,” I said. “And Rys can’t protect you from five thousand warriors.”
She touched my cheek and smiled warmly. “I’m a Defiant of First Port,” she replied. “Who better to tell the tale of what happened at the Silver Parliament? If Marius is wrong and the world endures, we’ll still need books. And the Winterlord knights of First Port need to know what has happened.”
“Stay with us,” I countered. “We’re bound for the Dark Harbour, then Nowhere.”
She shook her head with finality.
“And him?” I asked, nodding at the snarling Sea Wolf.
“He’s far more considered and intelligent than he appears,” she replied. “Though his dislike of Dark Brethren verges on obsession. And he will not stay here. Adeline Brand holds his absolute loyalty and he is eager to return to her side.” She frowned. “And I fear many Brethren will die if he stays here much longer.”
I clutched her slender hands. I was afraid of seeing her go, and wished that she’d stay, but I entirely understood her reasons. With one large caveat. “And the tenth void legion?” I asked. “Yanos Wolf Bane almost killed me. He’s got five thousand legionnaires with him, and he’s coming this way.”
“Then I would say that staying here is just as dangerous as leaving,” she replied. “Oh yes, that’s right, you are to be a saviour, King Oliver of the Dawn Claw. Whatever that means to these Outrider Knights.”
I almost blushed. To be mocked by the wisest Winterlord I knew was an unpleasant and humbling experience. She made it sound like I’d been brainwashed by Ten Cuts’ spirit-whistle and the superstitious nonsense of the Outriders. But at least she addressed me as king, temporarily relieving my new twitch.
I bowed to her, still clutching her hands. “I am not yet king, but I must be. If Marius speaks the truth, the Eastron need a man of the Dawn Claw more than ever… They need a king more than ever.”
The ring of Outrider Knights had fallen back, and Gentle was now visible at the rear. The rotund commander of Snake Guard had pulled his warriors back, and was allowing us to converse in relative privacy. Jack and Leofryc had helped the unconscious men, two of whom were still limp from being punched by the Wolf’s Bastard, and a tentative peace had descended upon the gatehouse. The Dark Brethren were angry at the Sea Wolf, but this quickly disappeared in the wake of
Gentle’s arrival. The commander put a stop to anything approaching disrespect. Even with three beaten Outriders, a violent response was strictly forbidden.
“Just let us go,” said Elizabeth. “Our chances of survival are no worse than yours. And we may yet live to tell an important tale.”
I let go of her hands and turned. Marius and Straya were standing on either side of Rys Coldfire, with the three of them locked in a tense glaring competition. They were all good, but the Stranger definitely had the edge. In glaring, if not in martial skill. “Let them leave,” I commanded. “No one here has the right to stop them.”
Marius rubbed his eyes, and I sensed he was suppressing the desire to shout at someone. Though Gentle commanded Snake Guard, it was clear that the Stranger was in charge, for every set of eyes fixed on him, waiting for a response. “Straya can lead you through the void,” he said, after a moment. “And don’t argue. Without her, you’re dead. You can’t go back to the Silver Dawn.”
Straya placed a hand on her chest. “I know of secluded ports, places we can sail from the Father.”
The envoy smiled at the young Outrider Knight and I could tell that she liked the idea of a guide. Unfortunately, the glare of the Sea Wolf had not softened. Rys didn’t appear to distinguish between Dark Brethren, holding the same low opinion of each of them. Elizabeth saw the same as me, and stepped closer to the duellist, whispering something in his ear. All I knew of their relationship was that he’d saved her life at the Silver Parliament, had been unusually protective since, and there was clear trust between them.
“Okay,” said the Wolf’s Bastard, after a few moments of listening to the envoy. “You can guide us. But we go now.”
Marius and Straya both nodded, and I sensed a general feeling of relief between them. The gate was opened at the Stranger’s command, though Gentle and his knights didn’t react as Straya led the way, through the north-east gatehouse and onto the plains beyond. Elizabeth gathered her cloak and followed, with the formidable Sea Wolf bringing up the rear.
