My mother was the healer, not me. I had no stomach for blood and gaping wounds. But Birdie was a thousand miles away and there was no one else. I coaxed the Felan’s hands away from his head and saw immediately that he was no older than Ryall. The Felan really had thrown everyone into this battle. I groaned at the sight of so much blood oozing freely into his hair.
‘Birdie always says head wounds look worse than they are,’ I remembered, speaking, more to myself than the others. She had told me something else, too — it wasn’t the pain of the wound or the slash of cold steel that killed a man, it was the loss of blood. ‘If we bind him up tight, the bleeding will stop,’ I announced with more authority than I felt.
There was only my yellow dress to use as a bandage. I tore the first strip from along the hem. The second tear shortened the skirt to halfway up my calves. I wrapped the yellow bandages twice round the Felan’s head and once under his chin, securing the whole affair with a knot my mother had shown me.
‘Thank you,’ he moaned.
‘Can you see?’ I asked.
‘Well enough, although everything is blurred in my left eye.’
‘Does your right one tell you who we are?’ Tamlyn asked.
The Felan’s hesitation was answer enough. ‘You are the intruders from Athlane,’ he said finally.
‘Visitors, not intruders,’ I said. ‘Do you believe we were spies for the Wyrdborn?’
The boy thought about this for a while. ‘It doesn’t matter what I think, there are plenty of others who say you were.’ He tried to stand up. ‘Help me. I have to go back. If one of us goes down, it weakens the rest.’
While Tamlyn and Ryall lifted him to his feet, my eye picked out movement further along the beach. One of the Wyrdborn had broken away from the brigade that was trying to force him back into the sea. It was easy to see why. Four Felan lay wounded on the sand, and the rest barely had strength to follow their enemy. The Wyrdborn reached the line of dunes and, with no one to stop him, strode across the loose sand and out of sight.
The Felan left behind seemed unsure whether to go after him. In that moment of confusion, one of them saw us and pointed us out to the others. The boy I had bandaged was unsteady on his feet and, while they watched, he fell awkwardly onto the sand. From a distance it must have looked like we’d attacked him. Instantly, they were on the run toward us, and before we could even think of escaping into the dunes we were surrounded by four angry Felan, their swords ready.
‘Get away from him,’ one shouted.
‘You don’t understand,’ I said. ‘Your friend was hurt. I put the bandage on his head myself. In fact, Tamlyn saved his life —’
‘Move away, I tell you,’ screamed the same man.
They had been fighting for more than an hour and the desperation of finding death at every turn had etched deeply into their faces.
The injured boy would surely have spoken up for us, but luck had abandoned us, it seemed. He had fainted, and lay like a corpse on the sand at our feet.
‘We know who you are,’ the man said. ‘The Circle had already decided your fate before we left Meraklion.’
He took a tighter grip on his sword. The others copied him. There was reluctance in their faces, even fear at what they were about to do, but to my horror I saw determination as well. They had struggled all morning against an enemy who wouldn’t die. Now they would know the satisfaction of killing.
The swords rose higher, ready to strike. Tamlyn grabbed me close, to save me from the first slash of the blade.
‘Hold fast,’ came a cry.
I twisted quickly in Tamlyn’s grip to see who had intervened, yet I knew the voice even before I turned. There was Geran, armed with a sword she must have snatched up from one of the dead.
‘These are the spies who came ahead of the Wyrdborn,’ said the Felan leading the others. ‘They should die here, before they can do any more harm.’
‘You’re wrong. These three have more reason to hate the Wyrdborn than anyone on this beach,’ said Geran.
The Felan who surrounded them knew who she was and, despite her disgrace in the Great Hall, she had their respect. Geran seemed to know, too.
‘Pick up your friend,’ she told them. ‘Take him to have his wound sewn by the surgeon, then rejoin the fighting wherever you can. Too many Wyrdborn are escaping from the beach.’
‘What about these three?’
‘I’ll move them clear of the beach. They can’t be any threat to us from behind the dunes, not with me watching them.’
Geran’s air of command prevailed. The four Felan lifted the bandaged boy by his arms and legs and did as she ordered.
‘We have a new gaoler,’ said Ryall, once they were gone.
‘Think of it that way if you like,’ said Geran. ‘There are plenty on this beach who’d like to kill you. Come on. If they don’t see you, they won’t get the chance.’
That sounded like a fine plan to me and I was first behind Geran as she led us into the long sea grass behind the dunes. She marched us to a cleft in the sand formed by the wind and protected by driftwood overgrown with weeds and saltbush. Unless someone knew we were hiding beneath the canopy, we would never be found.
‘Stay here until I come for you,’ she ordered.
‘Aren’t you staying to watch over us?’ I asked.
‘You’re not the spies my people think you are, and I have a job to do, even if my father won’t let me fight as I want to.’
The hidey-hole Geran had found for us was safe, but it was also another prison. Neither Ryall nor Tamlyn were keen to stay cooped up for long. For that matter, neither was I. We crawled out into the open and immediately regretted our folly. Not thirty paces away, a Wyrdborn was hurrying through the sea grass with his bloodied sword ready for anything that stood in his way.
Our luck had returned, however, because he wasn’t heading towards us. He might have spotted us when his helmet turned briefly in our direction, but he didn’t even check his stride. He was too eager to reach the woods and start searching for Lucien.
‘That’s two we’ve seen who have fought their way off the beach. There are sure to be others,’ said Tamlyn, and without another word he scrambled to the top of the nearest dune.
He remained there for a long time, and when he returned his face told us his news before he’d even opened his mouth.
‘The Felan are falling back all along the beach. More Wyrdborn are rowing in from the ships. I think I saw my father among them.’
‘Coyle! How could you know it was him?’ I asked.
‘His armour. He made the king’s armourer craft a special suit for him of a dark metal said to be stronger than steel.’
For the rest of the day, we watched as, one by one, the Wyrdborn battered the Felan into giving way. By dusk, dozens had escaped inland, including Coyle.
During the night, we saw the fires of the Felan’s camp a mile to the north and smelled the delights of their cooking, but after Geran’s warning we didn’t dare sneak closer in the hope of stealing some food for ourselves.
Where was my Lucien, I wondered. His body harboured such power, yet I could only think of him as a four-year-old boy wandering alone in the night without any sense of what he was searching for. I might not be his mother, but that didn’t stop me from picturing the worst in my mind — his body trampled beneath a horse’s hooves, or sniffed out by wolves, or fallen into a flooded ditch.
I wriggled close to Tamlyn and, in his embrace, whispered these fears to him. I was seeking comfort, and found it in the warmth of his body but not in his words.
‘That’s not the worst of it, Silvermay. The worst will come if one of those Wyrdborn finds him before we do.’
I sat up. ‘Then we should be looking for him now.’
‘No, we are much more likely to meet a Wyrdborn instead. There will be no mercy from them, believe me. Each wants Lucien for himself, and they will kill everyone else they come across without reason and without hesitation.’
I lay down in the sand again, and this time Tamlyn was the one who drew close, slipping his arm around me.
‘I wish I had a Wyrdborn’s strength to protect you,’ he said.
‘I would rather have you this way, no matter what happens.’
It was true. I was aware of him now as a man like any other, when before he had seemed the one man I could not have as my own. At last he was one of the commonfolk and I could love him as I wished. Even though my fears for Lucien haunted me through the night, this one thought left me strangely happy.
13
The Death of a Wyrdborn
When I woke, I found Geran’s face staring down at me. She gave me a moment to get over the surprise, then said, ‘I’m glad to find you here still. I was worried you wouldn’t stay out of sight like I told you.’
I did not tell her that we’d spent the afternoon watching the battle from high in the dunes.
‘Here, I thought you’d be hungry.’ She pushed a long loaf of bread into my hands.
I tore off a hunk to hold under Tamlyn’s nose and the smell woke him instantly. Ryall was already stirring, too. It was only after we had wolfed down every scrap of the loaf that I looked more closely at Geran.
‘You’re covered in blood.’
‘Felan blood, I’m afraid, and more will join it today.’ She looked exhausted and downcast.
‘It’s because the Wyrdborn are so hard to kill, isn’t it?’ I said.
She shrugged in agreement, then brightened suddenly. ‘There’s a strange story going around the camp about that. One of our scouts says he came upon a Wyrdborn in the woods and —’
‘He was lucky to escape alive,’ Tamlyn remarked wryly.
‘That’s just it,’ Geran explained. ‘The Wyrdborn was dead.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Tamlyn said. ‘The fool probably saw one sleeping and didn’t go near enough to see his chest moving.’
‘The scout claims he watched the body for a time to make sure it wasn’t a trick. Then he went closer and finally jabbed him with a spear to be certain. To prove his story he brought back the Wyrdborn’s helmet.’
‘It must have been another Wyrdborn who killed him, then,’ I said.
Tamlyn shook his head. ‘No, they are too evenly matched. That scout was either lying, or he was mad.’
I was brushing crumbs from my lap when a voice called Geran’s name. Whoever it was couldn’t see her inside our hidey-hole, but he seemed to know she was nearby.
Geran scurried into the open, and soon after called us out as well.
‘That’s the boy we helped yesterday,’ said Ryall when we saw the yellow bandage still in place around his head.
Geran signalled us closer, and since the boy carried no weapon we were quickly at her side.
‘My father has sent him,’ she told us. ‘Seems he heard news of our meeting on the beach and he had me watched. He wants to see me, and you as well.’
‘Should we go?’ I asked.
Geran shrugged. ‘If my father wanted to kill you, he wouldn’t send an unarmed boy who can only see out of one eye.’
‘What does Birchon want with us?’ asked Tamlyn.
‘He didn’t say. Maybe it’s about the dead Wyrdborn,’ the boy muttered as he set off in the lead.
‘Geran told us about him,’ said Ryall.
‘Oh, it’s not just one. They’ve found three now. Could be more by the time we get back to camp.’
This news made us hurry after him along the sandy tracks to the Felan camp. Surly, suspicious faces greeted us, but none of the fighters stepped in our path.
Birchon and others from the Circle of Elders were waiting for us in a large tent that rose higher than the rest. Birchon broke away from the men he was speaking to when he saw us enter. He didn’t ask how we had escaped the city; he didn’t bother with a greeting at all.
‘What do you make of this?’ he demanded before we’d even come to a halt.
He stepped aside to reveal a man’s body laid out on a makeshift table. Even in death, he wore the cold sneer of a Wyrdborn and immediately I felt my blood chill. Moments later, my entire body stiffened, for I knew this face. We all did.
‘Hallig,’ Tamlyn whispered.
‘You know him?’ Birchon asked.
‘He was my brother,’ said Tamlyn.
Birchon was startled by this news and took a while to find his next words. ‘In other circumstances I would offer my condolences, but not today. How can I feel pity for the Wyrdborn when they’ve killed so many of my people? Your brother slaughtered his share, you can be sure of that.’
‘Not just your people,’ I said. ‘He tortured Ryall and broke his arm so badly my mother had to cut it off to save his life.’
‘And now he’s dead,’ whispered Ryall, as though he didn’t yet believe it. ‘Is it wrong for me to enjoy a sort of revenge, Silvermay? Should I be ashamed? Because I don’t feel ashamed.’
‘No, Ryall, anyone else would be the same.’
How did Tamlyn feel? I laced my fingers between his own and squeezed gently. This roused him, not to address the Elders but to turn his face towards me.
‘I feel no pity, either, Silvermay. Hallig fought with me, he tried to kill me, but he was still my brother. Shouldn’t I feel something? Isn’t that what it means to be one of the commonfolk?’
‘There was no love between you, even as boys,’ I said. ‘No love in the father you shared, either. That’s why you feel no grief. When someone who has cared for you dies, you will know grief the way the commonfolk do.’
‘Our father,’ he murmured. ‘I can feel the hatred for Coyle in my heart just as strongly as when I was a Wyrdborn.’
‘Oh, the commonfolk feel hatred, and it’s only natural to feel that way towards Coyle when he’s done such terrible things. The key is not to let the hate for him become an evil within you. That’s a struggle the commonfolk find easier to win than the Wyrdborn do.’
Even as I spoke I felt my heart sink. That was exactly the struggle I was trying to win within Lucien’s heart, and, unlike Tamlyn, he was a Wyrdborn still.
Birchon broke into our whispers. ‘Whether he’s your brother or not, what do you make of him?’
The question brought our eyes back to Hallig’s body and I saw now that he lay there peacefully. There was no wound that I could see. How had he died?
‘What have you done with his armour?’ Tamlyn asked.
‘This is how he was found.’
Tamlyn’s eyebrows shot up. ‘It’s a brave man who’ll steal from a Wyrdborn, even after he’s dead. How did he die?’
‘We hoped you might tell us that,’ said Birchon.
Tamlyn rubbed at the stubble on his chin while he inspected every inch of Hallig’s body. ‘It’s like he lay down to sleep and never woke up.’
‘That can’t be true,’ said Birchon. ‘Surely someone used a weapon against him, something he owned himself. That’s how it works, isn’t it — the special magic that protects your kind?’
‘I’m not a Wyrdborn any longer,’ Tamlyn replied sharply. ‘But yes, that is the way.’
‘Are you sure you can’t tell what killed him?’ Birchon insisted.
He looked to Ryall and me, hoping we might have an answer instead. Ryall shook his head and, after the briefest hesitation, so did I. This was no place for the wild idea that had begun to taunt me. Besides, I desperately wanted to be wrong.
A messenger arrived, shouting his news to the entire camp before bursting wide-eyed into our tent. ‘The Wyrdborn are fleeing the woods. They’re heading back to the beach — those who aren’t dead, at least.’
‘You mean more have died like this one?’ Birchon asked.
‘Twenty, at least,’ the messenger cried. ‘I saw five with my own eyes.’
‘Were they all stripped of their armour like this one?’ Tamlyn asked.
‘No, but every one is as dead as a stone.’
As Birchon made for the open flap of the tent, Geran called to him. ‘Father,
let me join the fighting this time.’
‘No, stay with the wounded,’ he snapped.
She turned back to us, her face reddening in disgrace. ‘I must go back to my post. You are safe for now.’ And with those words she was gone.
Outside, we could hear men preparing for battle — the scrape and clink of metal against metal, the dull voices of soldiers who knew they might not live to see the sun go down. When the noise lessened, we knew many of the brigades had marched away through the dunes.
Birchon returned finally. ‘The messenger was right. All the Wyrdborn have gone back to the beach. You are to come with us — there may be some clue you can give us yet. If there is a new way to kill the Wyrdborn, we might drive them out of Erebis Felan, after all.’
The fighting hadn’t yet begun when we arrived at the crest of a dune with Birchon and his commanders. The Wyrdborn had strung out along the shore again as they had done the day before, but there was one important change. Out to sea, there was no sign of the ships.
‘Curse the gods,’ said Birchon. ‘I’d hoped we could drive the Wyrdborn away from Erebis Felan altogether. It’s even more important now that we learn how to kill them. We need to know how they died in the woods.’
‘I’m sorry, Birchon,’ said Tamlyn. ‘If I had the least clue, I would share it with you. But these deaths don’t make sense. There is nothing in all the stories I have ever heard that can explain it.’
Slowly the sun climbed until it sat directly overhead. There was still no fighting since neither side was in any hurry to engage. The Wyrdborn, especially, seemed confused.
‘This is a new sensation for the Wyrdborn,’ said Tamlyn. ‘They have always had such power over their world, but now the unheard of has happened — dozens of their own kind have been killed. Now each is afraid for himself. Or herself,’ he added, remembering that some of those below us on the beach were women. ‘Every Wyrdborn from Athlane has come to these shores. They’ve forgotten about Lucien now. They just want to get away again before they end up among the dead.’
‘Is your father still among them?’ I asked.
He pointed to a tall figure in armour the colour of charcoal. ‘He claims no steel can cut through it.’
Lucien Page 9
