by Zoe Marriott
Luca passed the front line of soldiers and sprang effortlessly onto a rock. He pulled me up after him, turning to point out the shadow of the forest far below. “We’ve come around the side of the mountain here, you see. Where before we needed to climb to reach the ruins, now we’ll be going downhill. It will make it harder to keep blocking the rebels’ supplies – we’ll need to send more patrols out – but hopefully it will throw Constantin off.”
“You know the route by heart, don’t you?”
“I’ve stared at the maps often enough. When I was little, I always told my family I would explore these mountains one day. They used to laugh at me. Yet here I am.”
I squinted up at him, suddenly finding it very important to try and read the expression on his face. “I think they’d be proud of you for remembering your dream like that.”
Luca didn’t answer straight away. Then he sighed. “My parents were great people. They weren’t like a lot of the Sedorne who came here after the occupation and only wanted to fight and steal. They were peaceful and compassionate, and they tried their hardest to help the Rua and to repair some of the damage that Abheron had done. They built schools and infirmaries, travelled the farms and villages of their territory, brought healers and supplies. They made friends wherever they went, even with people who hated the Sedorne. I don’t think I’ve turned out the way they would have expected. They always intended me to follow in their footsteps – to take the title of Lord Mesgao and concern myself with helping people to build lives.”
“You do help people. You save lives all the time,” I said, surprised.
“But I’m not a man of peace, am I?” He lifted his hand, which had been resting comfortably on the hilt of his sword. “I’m a warrior. That’s the last thing they would have wanted for me.”
I thought carefully before I spoke. “This isn’t forever. One day you’ll be free of Ion and the past. When you’ve done what you set out to do here, you’ll still have your whole life to live as you wish. What will you do then?”
Luca gave a strange little laugh. “You know, I’ve never really thought about it. I’ve spent so long chasing his shadow—”
He broke off, turning his head sharply. I heard the rattle of stones tumbling downhill and, following the line of Luca’s gaze, saw a plume of dust rising from the rocks above us.
My body went icy cold. Every tiny hair on my skin raked up. I met Luca’s eyes for an instant that felt like an hour and saw Luca’s lips frame the word. “Ambush!”
There was a shout from the rocks. The air filled with arrows.
I saw two men at the front of the hill-guard column go down and I lunged at Luca, knocking him off the boulder. He hit the ground beneath me with a grunt and then rolled, flinging his larger body over mine as a shield. An arrow shot past and buried itself in the ground an inch from Luca’s face.
The arrows hit the trail with a sound like hailstones, almost drowning out the thundering feet, the yelling, the clash of weapons.
“Get up! Get off!” I screamed, struggling to push him away. His back would be a perfect target for the archers.
He leaped to his feet, snagging the front of my jerkin to haul me with him. The enemy had risen from the rocks above the track and sliced through the hill-guard column. Abandoning their packs and baggage, our soldiers were running helter-skelter into battle. Horses kicked and whinnied as they tried to escape the fray. Rock dust rose in clouds around the fighting. It was chaos.
“Holy Mother,” Luca whispered. He rushed forward.
A rebel in dented plate armour dropped down from the rocks directly behind Luca. The rebel swung his sword at Luca’s back.
A howl of rage erupted from my throat. In one movement I wrenched my father’s axe from its sheath and brought the weapon scything sideways at the rebel’s neck. Hot droplets of blood spattered my face. The man fell, pulling the axe out of my hands.
I staggered backwards, staring at what I had done. I barely noticed Luca stepping over the fallen rebel, until he carefully wiped the drops of blood from my face with the back of his gauntlet. He hesitated, clearly wanting to speak – but a scream from downhill forced his attention away.
“Thank you.” He nodded at me gravely, then turned and ran towards the fray, gesturing at me to follow him as he drew his sword.
I took a deep breath, giving my stomach a moment to settle. Then I reached out to grip the axe stave. Bone grated against metal. I was forced to plant my boot on the man’s back before I could drag the weapon free. I shook the blood off my blades, then ran after Luca.
He was halfway up the slope. He had taken a new sword from somewhere and was fighting with a weapon in each hand, movements a deadly blur of flashing silver and gold that forced the rebels back. Livia and the Rua healer were at the bottom of the slope, a circle of hill guards around them. On the edge of the trail, where the path turned, Arian did battle with Razia at his side, the two of them forcing rebel warriors over the edge of the cliff or onto the blades of those behind them.
Below me, the hill guards were surging steadily downwards, fighting to break through the wall of rebel soldiers at the bottom of the trail. We were outnumbered two to one, but Luca’s training was holding strong. Slowly but steadily, we were winning ground and forcing our way out of the trap.
Someone – it might have been friend or foe – shouted, “Bows!”
Another hail of arrows flew down into the battle. There was a piercing scream. I saw Razia crumple, falling almost at Arian’s feet with a long white arrow lodged in her chest. Arian dropped his sword, eyes filling with sorrow as he bent over her.
An enemy soldier closed in on him from behind. There was a metal club in the rebel’s fist, raised to strike. The ground turned to air under my feet as I raced towards Arian, screaming warnings. Arian jerked upright – too late. The rebel’s club thudded into the back of his skull.
His eyes rolled back in his head. For a moment he hung there, balanced on the very edge of the trail, above the river. Then he tumbled over the edge.
I skidded to a halt before the soldier who had clubbed Arian and despatched him with one sweep of my axe. This time I felt no remorse. Razia’s eyes were already clouding over. It was too late to help her.
“Frost!” Luca yelled. I turned and found his blue eyes burning into mine. “He can’t swim! Go after him!”
I hesitated for a split second as I looked down over the edge of the trail. The river heaved below. I could see no sign of Arian. If I tried to climb down the rock face, I would never reach the river in time to help him.
I jammed my axe into its sheath and jumped, feet first, over the edge.
Twenty-one
The wind screamed around me as I fell, tearing at my clothes and hair. I had one moment to realize how stupid I had been, to think about hidden rocks, whirlpools, shallow beds. Then I hit the river.
The water closed over my head with a deafening crash. I plunged deep, white clouds of bubbles churning around me, blinding me and pounding against my ears. My skin caught fire with the cold. The axe was a dead weight strapped to my back, dragging me down. I squirmed in the water, like a moth trying to break free of its chrysalis.
Arian is out there. He’s out there and he can’t swim.
I flailed my cramping limbs, forcing them to move. Lungs aching with the effort of keeping breath in, ribs creaking, I kicked and clawed at the water, praying that I still knew up from down.
I broke the surface in a shower of foam and sucked in a deep breath, choking and coughing as the spray hit the back of my throat.
“Arian!” I screamed. “Arian!”
A fallen branch rushed at me, frighteningly fast. I gasped and ducked under the surface. Spiny twigs dragged across the top of my head as the branch passed by. I surfaced again with a yell of pain. The current was sweeping me forward, and my joints ground together with the effort of trying to resist. “Arian! Answer me!”
The water dragged me under again, curling over my head. I came up once
more, gasping, head turning frantically as I searched for any sign of him. My vision was too blurry. Then, a little way ahead, I saw something. I blinked water from my eyes, trying to focus. A body floated on the river’s surface, unresisting as the current tossed it about. Dark hair drifted in the water like a thundercloud.
I dived forwards. My lungs made hollow wheezing sounds, like punctured bellows, as I fought to reach him. The river lifted me, then sucked me backwards. Arian’s arm trailed past me. I stretched out, and my gloved fingers clamped down on his wrist.
Another swell broke over us. I choked on a mouthful of water, sculling with one hand and my legs. I couldn’t go under again. I would take Arian with me. I waited for the next swell to bring him closer and then heaved him back, wrapping my other arm around his chest and under his arms. His head lolled onto my shoulder. I pulled him up, trying to keep his nose and mouth out of the river.
Once I was sure of my grip I used my other arm to steer us, kicking strongly with my legs and shielding Arian’s body with mine. His face was grey and immobile, without a flicker of life. The gloves prevented me from feeling for blood beating under his skin. I couldn’t tell if he was breathing. The thought that I was clinging to his dead body was too awful. He must be alive. Arian was a fighter – he wouldn’t give up this easily.
All I could do was hang onto him and try to keep him afloat by pushing him up whenever the river closed over us. I scanned the towering cliffs on either side of the channel, looking for an inlet, an island in the river – anywhere I might have a chance to pull Arian out of the icy water and make sure he was alive.
There was nothing.
Deadly tiredness began to creep over me. The water was too cold, the current too strong. Without my even realizing it, my legs had almost stopped kicking. Soon I had to use both arms to hold onto Arian’s limp body, afraid my hands would slip and I would lose him. My throat was as raw as if I had drunk acid.
When the river burst out from the narrow ravine, the violence of the waves sucked us under again. My desire to live flared up once more. I clawed my way back up to the surface, clinging to Arian’s arm – to find the water smoothing out around us, deepening to a peaceful green.
It was easier now. Instead of being dragged, pounded and splashed, we drifted. The water began to feel almost warm. I hoped that was because we had reached the lower slopes of the mountain and not because the cold was killing me. The river was still boxed in by walls of rock on either side that would have been impossible to climb even if I hadn’t had Arian to look after.
Gradually, the cliffs began to slope down, becoming steep banks. I saw plants and trees growing on their tops. When the banks became tumbled rocks that edged the river with the great conical shapes of pines beyond, I lay back in the water and thrashed my legs, spending what felt like the last of my energy to drag Arian with me.
The current seemed to clutch at us. Panic made my fingers dig into Arian, my breath catching. If we didn’t get out of the water soon we never would. I kicked harder, drawing on reserves I didn’t know I had. With one last mighty kick, I broke free of the current. We were propelled sideways, towards the bank. The movement spun us around. Arian slid down and I quickly thrust my arm under his neck to keep him from being swamped. His eyes were still closed, and his lips had a grey, clay-like look.
Please, Father. Let him be alive.
I craned my neck back; the water gently lapped at my face. We were floating in an inlet. There was a small bank of yellow sand, almost hidden beneath the overhanging vegetation: a cave. If we could reach it, we would be safe.
I paddled slowly towards the bank, legs too tired now to do more than flap about in the water. Slowly, dry land inched closer. My foot hit the river bed and stuck in deep, squelching mud. I toiled on, still towing Arian. Finally, I reached the tiny strip of sand and began dragging him under the green overhang. Out of the water, my sodden clothes and axe were heavy enough to crush me. Gasping and grunting with effort, back screaming, eyes swimming with black dots, I got Arian into shelter.
I flopped down beside him, too weak even to sit up as I fumbled to pull off my right glove, and reached out for his neck. His skin was wet and chilly, like the scales of a freshly landed fish. I found the hollow under his chin where his blood should be beating.
I couldn’t feel anything.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep my hand steady. It was there. It had to be there.
“Please, Father,” I whispered.
A tiny, trembling movement under the pad of my index finger.
I pressed my face to the front of Arian’s jerkin. His chainmail dug into my forehead, but I barely felt it. The discomfort of soaking clothes, heavy leather armour, the weight of the axe pressing down on my back – none of it was enough to stir me. A handful of minutes might have passed, or an hour. I didn’t know or care. I’d done it. I’d got him out alive.
Something warm trickled down the chilled skin of my face. I lifted my head, blinked, and saw a dark spot land on the chainmail under my cheek. Blood. The branch had got me. Lucky it hadn’t been an enemy’s blow that had opened my skin – I had more than enough to deal with now without the Wolf rearing its ugly head.
I pushed myself away from Arian and creaked into a sitting position. We were both sodden and chilled through, but the air was mild. If I could get us dry, we’d start to warm up. I shucked off my other glove, my vambraces, the axe harness, the leather jerkin and the leather choker from around my throat. My linen undershirt was also sodden. I took it off, leaving myself clad in only a breast-wrapping. The boots and breeches were clammy and very uncomfortable, but if I removed them too they might shrink as they dried, and leave me nothing to wear. I would just have to put up with it. I spared one moment to examine the blades of Da’s axe, pleased to see that they had taken no harm from the rough journey in the river. Then I thrust all the wet things into the corner of the cave, and began the slow and difficult process of divesting Arian of all his leather and chainmail.
In the dim green light of the overhang and with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking, it seemed to take forever to get the armour off. I lifted Arian as carefully as I could – he was so heavy, the effort made me pant – and propped his head and neck on my thigh so that I could unlace and remove his soaked undershirt, too. Then I eased him back down onto the sand.
I rubbed my hands together until they felt dry and warm, then I began to chafe Arian’s arms, hands and chest, wiping away droplets of river water. My tanned, scarred hands looked pale and fragile against the massive width of his chest. His skin was as soft as kidskin, despite the hard, corded muscles beneath. The fine hair on his body tickled my palms as it dried.
“Arian,” I whispered. “Arian. If you can hear me, open your eyes.”
Not even a sigh or a twitch of an eyelid. I tested the pulse at his throat again. It was still there, but I knew enough of healing to worry that it was so faint and so fast.
I eased my hand around to the back of his neck, and felt for the wound that had felled him. There was a lump the size of a quail’s egg at the base of his skull. At least it wasn’t bleeding. But he was still chilly. I lay down next to him again, hooking my leg across his, so that my torso covered his chest and I could press as much of my warm flesh to his cold skin as possible. I slid one arm carefully under his neck and tucked my face into the hollow of his shoulder under his chin.
I had expected to have to fight off a panic at his closeness, as I had with every male since I was twelve, except Luca. But, maybe because he was unconscious, or maybe because we had sparred and grappled with each other so often in the past six weeks, I found that I was surprisingly comfortable. Physically, at least.
I couldn’t stop turning over all the events of this terrible day in my mind. Arian was injured, and we were far from any possible source of help. Razia was dead. I had left Luca – and all of the hill guards – in the middle of battle, heavily outnumbered. We had seemed to be winning, but who knew how the tide of a bat
tle might turn?
The look in Luca’s eyes after he saw Arian fall haunted me. He would be horribly worried about his brother. About both of us. What if that slowed him down? Put him in danger?
Who would watch his back with Arian and me both gone?
Twenty-two
Outside, afternoon became evening, and evening, night. The light turned dusky and faded away, leaving our hiding place engulfed in shadows as thick and black as pitch. I couldn’t make out Arian’s face, or even the movement of my own hand any more.
After an hour or so a faint silver light began to creep into the cave, slowly gaining strength. The moon was rising. Its pale light reflected from the surface of the river, marking it with long grey ripples as it lapped at the sand. I watched the water with weary, sleepless eyes. Arian lay beneath me like the stone Livia had once called him. My hand clasped his wrist tightly – the faint pulse of his blood against my palm was the only reassurance that he was not already gone. He barely seemed to be breathing.
When at last he stirred, my first thought was that I had imagined it. The faint sigh could have been a sound from the water, or the sand settling around us, or a night creature burrowing. Then, after an endless moment, a soft, complaining grumble vibrated through Arian’s chest. The shoulder under my face twitched.
Moving slowly, holding my breath, I unwound myself from his body. Bracing my hands on the sand on either side of his head, I peered down at him. Faint glints of light showed me that his eyes were open. I stared into his dimly lit face, watching those tiny glints move as his gaze circled the dark place where we lay, then moved across to the water, and finally shifted back to me.
“Arian?” I whispered. Would he recognize me? Would he even be able to speak?
