Jorundyr's Path: Wolf of the North Book 2

by Duncan M. Hamilton

  ‘How?’

  ‘Ha,’ Aethelman said. ‘That’s the big question. I’d hoped I might find it in a hole in the ground, but instead that one-eyed rat has it. I don’t think he knows what it’s capable of, and I have to get it from him before he finds out. But enough about my problems. How are you? What I told you in the square must have come as a great shock.’

  ‘That’s an understatement,’ Adalhaid said, ‘and I have to admit I still don’t know what to do. I was just starting to come to terms with everything and move on with my life.’ She smiled. ‘I’m training to be a physician. It’s hard, but I really love it.’

  ‘I’m sorry for dumping all that on you,’ Aethelman said. ‘I wish I hadn’t said anything, but I was so surprised to see you that it tumbled out of me.’

  ‘It’s hard to believe everyone thinks I’m dead,’ Adalhaid said, laughing sadly.

  ‘There weren’t very many people left to fool,’ Aethelman said. ‘There are so few people in Leondorf now who were born there.’

  ‘What should I do, Aethelman?’ Adalhaid said.

  ‘I have no idea where Wulfric is,’ Aethelman said. ‘He wasn’t killed when you thought he was, but after that, who knows what happened to him? What I do know is that Wulfric would want you to be happy, and that a life spent searching for him with no guarantee you will ever find him will not bring you happiness. Hold on to what you have here. Find happiness. If the gods do not intend for you to be together, it won’t happen, no matter how hard you try.’

  ‘Is that what you think? That the gods don’t want us to be together?’

  Aethelman frowned. ‘I don’t know. But he would want you to be happy. Are you happy here? Happy training to be a physician?’

  She nodded.

  ‘It’s a decision only you can make, Adalhaid, but if you can find a good, happy life here…’

  She nodded. The thought of searching for Wulfric had seemed like madness, but rejecting the idea had made her feel like she was letting him down, that she didn’t love him enough. To hear someone else say it eased the pain it caused her.

  ‘Perhaps one day he’ll find his way back to me,’ she said.

  ‘I hope so,’ Aethelman said.

  Adalhaid took a deep breath to clear her mind. ‘There’s something else I want to ask you about,’ she said. ‘I think I’m a witch.’

  45

  RODULF

  As luck would have it, all the lords Rodulf had to visit were based close to Elzburg and each of them involved bribes, so he was back in the palace the following evening. He had been able to think of little other than his last interview with the Markgraf. If he could make the Markgraf do what he said, the possibilities were limitless. He could allow the Markgraf to take all the risks, and if successful, Rodulf could reap all the benefit. Perhaps he could even have the Markgraf appoint him his heir. It was an outrageous thought, but with the Stone, he didn’t think it beyond the bounds of possibility. All he had to do was work out how to extend its influence over him, and see how far he could push it.

  It continued to fill his mind, with only the briefest of interruptions that evening when in bed with the kitchen girl. She was becoming a familiar feature, but was too far beneath him to be good for anything more than a tumble. He couldn’t allow her to distract him from the bigger fish. As he lay there, he thought through the social conventions to which he would have to adhere. They could be made to work for him, if he was clever about it. His mind had returned to the Markgraf and the Stone when she jumped out of bed.

  ‘I have to go,’ she said, pulling a shift over her head. ‘I have to prepare broth for the Lady Aenlin. She’s been very unwell since her brother died. There’re three physicians looking after her now. They must be very worried. Poor little mite.’

  ‘Poor indeed,’ he said absently. A thought occurred to him. ‘You do that every day?’

  ‘Five times a day,’ she said, as she leaned over the bed to kiss him again. ‘It’s all they have me doing now. I’m the only one who knows how she likes it.’

  ‘Good for you,’ he said, a plan beginning to take shape in his head. ‘Come back when you’re done. I’m not finished with you yet.’

  She giggled as she walked to the door.

  ‘And bring one of those fruit pastries,’ he said, but his thoughts were firmly fixed on the way he was going to take complete control of the Markgraf. He wondered where he could get his hands on some poison.

  ADALHAID

  ‘A witch?’ Aethelman said.

  ‘I can do things,’ Adalhaid said. ‘I can heal people. Mend cuts, knit bones. I don’t know how, but I can do it.’

  Aethelman laughed. ‘That doesn’t make you a witch, but we had better keep our voices down nonetheless. The south is a dangerous place to have this sort of gift.’

  Adalhaid’s eyes widened. She hoped she hadn’t already spoken too loudly. She looked around, but the lounge had emptied out and there was no one near.

  ‘The things you can do can be learned—but some people are born with the ability, as you seem to be. No one knows why. They are among the skills the Grey Priests learn in their training. I’m ashamed to admit it’s been some time since I’ve given it a thought, but I’ve long suspected you had that ability. I’d all but forgotten about it; so much has happened to distract me from it. There were other reasons I chose to turn a blind eye. Had I fully investigated it, I would have been obligated to send you to the Hermitage for training, but I always knew you would hate that so I let it go. Often the skill fades with time if it’s not practised. I thought it might be the same with you. It appears I’m wrong.’

  ‘What is it? How does it work?’

  ‘What is the sun? How does it move through the sky? If anyone really knew for sure, it would all be so much easier.’ He sighed and sank back into the armchair. For a moment, the only sound was the crackling of the fire. ‘It’s the product of the energy of the gods, a gift for some and a burden for others. Both, at times. The energy is everywhere. Stronger in places, weaker in others. It’s called the Fount most commonly, but there are other, older names too. Some people can draw on it, intentionally or otherwise. It affects them all in different ways, drawing out innate talents and abilities, and amplifying them to the point where they become magical. To be able to do it without training is a gift from the gods. Your ability will be far, far stronger than that of someone who has been trained to it.’

  ‘A gift?’ Adalhaid said.

  ‘Or a curse, depending on what it is,’ Aethelman said with a cheeky grin. ‘I think I’d call yours a gift, though. In this land, it’s not so straightforward. There are men here who would burn you for it, no matter how benevolent it is.’

  ‘I’ve seen them,’ she said. ‘Intelligenciers, they’re called.’

  Aethelman’s face darkened. ‘You need to be careful. You cannot use it here.’ His voice became feverish, manic almost. ‘You have to promise me you won’t use it.’

  Adalhaid nodded. ‘I’ll be careful,’ she said. ‘How does it work? I need to know how it works if I’m to keep it under control.’

  Aethelman, seemingly placated, nodded. ‘In essence, it’s a product of desire. When a person is able to draw on the Fount, it will sometimes give effect to what they want. People tend to have a talent in one particular area. It can be anything, and it can take many different forms. Wulfric, for instance—’ Aethelman stopped himself.

  Adalhaid’s eyes widened.

  ‘That’s not important,’ he said. ‘For you it seems to be healing. Desire is the key. When you really want something, your gift will draw on the Fount and give effect to that desire.’

  ‘Slow down,’ Adalhaid said. ‘The Fount? How do I find it?’

  ‘It’s everywhere, surrounding us, inside us. It’s not infinite, though. It can be exhausted, but only in very extreme circumstances, and that is not something the likes of us usually need worry about. Only those who can draw on it in the most powerful way need to be concerned about causing them
selves injury, and it has been centuries since many people like that existed. Few enough have any ability at all. You’ll get cold and tired like you’ve never known, before the gift will put you in danger. Stop if you feel these coming on, and you should be fine. Dizziness and nausea are common too, especially when you first start using it.’

  ‘You said Wulfric has this too?’

  ‘After a fashion. Your gift is healing. His is different. Jorundyr gave Wulfric his gift on his pilgrimage. Wulfric’s gift is killing.’

  Adalhaid blanched. ‘Killing?’

  ‘His gift makes him stronger, faster. It dulls fatigue and pain. It is something I had heard of, but have never seen. It’s somewhat of a poisoned chalice. They are far from invincible. Warriors always seek out fame, and killing one of Jorundyr’s Chosen always ensures that.’ Aethelman frowned. ‘I’m sorry. You probably didn’t want to hear that.’

  Adalhaid smiled. ‘No. Not really. But there’s nothing to be gained by dwelling on it.’

  ‘For me it’s always been harder to use than not to use,’ Aethelman said. ‘It requires focus and a strong desire. Eliminate one of those and you won’t draw on the Fount. At least, you won’t achieve anything with it.’

  ‘How can I not desire to heal my patient?’ Adalhaid said, her voice growing frustrated.

  ‘Strong desire,’ Aethelman said. ‘You can desire it, just not so much as to draw on the Fount. Learning how much is too much is the trick though. That’s what your challenge will be, if you hope to make a life in the South. You’ll have to learn how to shut it out, to turn your back on it. Otherwise one day you’ll make a mistake and will be found out.’

  Adalhaid took a deep breath. Wulfric, Jakob, a talent that could get her burned at the stake—there were moments she thought it would overwhelm her. When she was a child, Wulfric’s company had been her safe harbour when she needed one. She was a ship adrift in a storm now. If she was to remain afloat it would be all down to her. She let out a short laugh. She had never even been on a boat.

  ‘I can do that,’ she said.

  ‘You’ll have to. It will take time, and you’ll have to be extra careful until you do,’ Aethelman said. ‘At the Hermitage we spent years learning how to, then years learning how to temper it to our needs. From the sound of it, your power is already greater than many achieve in a lifetime of practice.’

  ‘Can you help me?’

  ‘Of course, Adalhaid. Of course I will.’

  WULFRIC

  Wulfric had not experienced a regime change before, and had expected Torona to be in ruins, with the charred remains of buildings paying testimony to the events that had unfolded. Were it not for Varada assuring them that dal Valeriano had seized power, killed his half-brother and a great many of his supporters, and ended the war because the old duke’s territorial claims had died with him, Wulfric would not have known anything had happened. The city looked no different to when they had left. Wulfric couldn’t imagine a man allowing power to be taken from him without a fight the devastation of which would be plain for all to see.

  They decided to remain some distance from the city while Jagovere and Varada went ahead to scout. They made a small camp out of sight of Torona and away from the roads. That done, Wulfric sat on the ground leaning against his saddle, throwing small pebbles at a larger one. The others tried to doze in the sunlight for the few hours until Jagovere returned.

  ‘We’ve had a bit of luck,’ Jagovere said as he gave Enderlain a kick to wake him. ‘Dal Valeriano is travelling through the duchy to ensure the support of his nobles.’

  Enderlain rolled over, but remained asleep.

  ‘Where is he now?’ Wulfric said.

  ‘No idea,’ Jagovere said, ‘but we know where he’s going, and most importantly, he’s not holed up in the city surrounded by walls and soldiers, which is good news for us.’

  ‘Best we get going then,’ Wulfric said, standing stiffly from the spot he had occupied for the previous hours.

  ‘No time to pop into the city for some fun first?’ Walt said, to a number of disapproving glares. ‘No, didn’t think so.’

  AETHELMAN

  Aethelman opened his eyes and smiled. The number of mornings he had awoken in such comfort were few indeed, but it was something he could happily grow used to. He took a deep breath and stretched, then widened his eyes in panic. He couldn’t feel the Stone’s draw.

  For so long now, Aethelman had headed toward Elzburg with the absolute confidence it was where he would find the Stone. He could feel it, drawing him ever closer. He had thought it would only be a matter of days before he discovered its precise location. Compared to finding such a small object in the great expanse of the world, recovering it once he had located it had barely seemed like an issue.

  He lay on his soft feather mattress and concentrated. Once he had learned what to look for, even when he had been in the Northlands he could feel it call to him. For the past days its song had been like a drumbeat in his head, but now there was only silence. His heart raced as he considered the possibilities. Had he been on the wrong path all along? Might his belief that he was being pulled toward it have been nothing more than a symptom of an old man losing his wits?

  He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. It could be sealed in something that lessened or cut off its call, or it could have moved. He focussed his thoughts and searched out its sound. He could hear nothing but the sound of his heart beating, but gradually it was joined by another regular pulse. The Stone was distant now, but he took comfort in the fact that he could still hear it. He had become used to its almost deafening presence when it was so near, he had grown desensitised to its more distant call.

  It told him much, however. Whoever had it kept it with them, which meant they might be using it. He could only hope they would not have learned how to use it to its full potential. The question that remained was whether it would come back to the city, or if he would have to continue his chase. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and thought for a moment. If it was the chase, it could surely wait until after a late breakfast.

  AETHELMAN

  Bacon, sausages, eggs, potato hash, tomatoes, fresh coffee, toast, and at least a dozen choices of jam, several from fruits of which he had never even heard: Aethelman could easily see why most of the merchants patronising the White Horse were of a portly disposition. His own wire-thin frame would quickly pad out if he remained there, and he could certainly see the attraction of that lifestyle. He dismissed the momentary guilt of his excesses—he had lived an ascetic life up to that point, and surely not even the gods would begrudge a man a little comfort in his twilight years.

  Duty was never far removed from his mind, however, and part of it was now dedicated to listening out for the pulsing song of the Stone. As dangerous an object as it was, it raised so many fascinating questions that remained unanswered, and might always. He had grown better at sensing the Stone the longer he had been aware of its presence. His skill was so precise now that he could feel it move, even over small distances. At first, he had been encouraged by the development, thinking it would make his job easier. That was followed by concern. It meant that Rodulf was using it, to some degree at least. He had felt it move out of the city, then back again. Its pulse waxed and waned, but it always returned to Elzburg, always to the palace.

  ADALHAID

  ‘Adalhaid.’

  She stopped on the spot, unable to pretend she hadn’t heard Jakob calling her. Things had been so awkward between them that an encounter was easier avoided. The last thing she wanted was to be cruel to him, but she still didn’t know which way to turn. She couldn’t deny she was attracted to him, but her feelings for Wulfric were still strong, and the chance that he was alive made her more confused than she had ever been.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said. She smiled, but it was forced, and Jakob’s face was stern.

  ‘Do you remember what we spoke about? After the girl with the injured leg?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, of cou
rse.’

  His face was very serious, and Adalhaid grew concerned.

  ‘You took my advice to heart, didn’t you?’

  She nodded. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Strellis said. ‘I just wanted to make sure. You can’t be too careful.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Adalhaid said. ‘I’m not a fool. I know the dangers.’

  His expression eased and he smiled, but said nothing more before disappearing into the treatment room, leaving Adalhaid with her thoughts. She had not lied when she said she knew the dangers. The consequences of being caught terrified her. But how could she go through her life knowing she had turned her back on a gift that could ease the suffering of so many? It was the ultimate submission to selfishness and cowardice. She would not be ruled by either.

  46

  ADALHAID

  The mood in the palace in the days following Petr’s death was bleak. She hadn’t even seen the Markgraf, who had kept to his rooms, and had not had the opportunity to offer her condolences. She spent more of her time at the university or the clinic for no other reason than to be away from the stark mourning atmosphere. She hurried in and out, not interested in having to deal with any of the sycophants who would try to console with her, in the hope that word of their concern would get back to the Markgraf. She was nearing her own rooms when she was intercepted by a valet.

  ‘The Markgraf would like to see you,’ he said, before leading her toward the Markgraf’s private office behind his audience hall.

  He sat behind his desk in a darkened office. Cloths had been draped over the magelamps and she could not clearly see his face.

  ‘Thank you for coming, Adalhaid,’ he said.