by Spurrier, Jo
‘What’ll he do, bury them? That’s a cursed big job for one man. Why didn’t he ask for help?’
Mira shook herself. ‘Oh, of course, I should have told him. He hasn’t seen what you can do, Delphine. I’ll go and tell him now.’ She started to rise, but Delphine waved her down again.
‘No, no, I’ll go myself.’
The cave was only a few hundred paces away. By the time Delphine found Cam, he’d dug knee-deep, but had struck a rock at one side of the pit and was searching for the edges of it.
Delphine glanced at the horse and then quickly looked away from the gaping hollow of its belly and the fly-covered pit on its haunches. ‘I can help you with that, if you like,’ she said to Cam.
‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ Cam said, pushing hair back from his face with a filthy hand. ‘I think I’ll go mad if I don’t have something to do.’ He turned his attention back to the rock.
With a sigh, Delphine crouched down and touched her hand to the stone as she gathered her power. With one sharp crack, a chunk of rock broke away and toppled down into the hollow. Cam’s feet, as luck happened to have it, were safely out of the way.
He threw his shovel down and crouched to roll the stone out of the pit.
‘How much do those horses weigh? Four, five hundred-weight?’
‘Couldn’t say. I don’t know how you Akharians reckon weights.’
‘How do you intend to move it?’
He nodded to a nearby tree, a stout young sapling. ‘Tie a rope to the forelegs, then loop it around the tree for a pulley. I’ve moved dead horses before, Delphine. It’s easier when there’s not a wounded man pinned under the beast.’ He picked up the shovel again.
‘Well, if you change your mind …’ Delphine said. She knew she ought to leave him to whatever comfort he could find in hard work, but her feet refused to take her, and all she could do was grind the toe of one boot into the muddy ground.
Cam paused to look up at her with sweat-streaked hair falling into his eyes. ‘Spit it out, Delphi.’
She pressed her lips together, not entirely sure she liked him using the short form of her name. ‘Cam …’ She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to admit that she felt so utterly helpless. But what good could come from hiding it? ‘What do we do now?’
With a grunt of irritation he drove his shovel into the soil and sat heavily on the edge of the pit. ‘Delphine,’ he said, hiding his face in his hands. ‘I don’t know. There’s nothing we can do, is there? Even if it weren’t suicide to follow him, there’s no way we could without horses. We have no way to get in touch with Sierra, and no help to offer her if we could.’
‘She’ll do all she can to help him,’ Delphine said. ‘I mean, just look at the risk she took to help you.’
‘I know. And yet it was still a cursed close thing — a few more days or one more bout of bad weather and I’d’ve been dead when you got to me. And if I hadn’t gone chasing off after Sierra in the first place, Isidro would never have been here within Kell’s reach —’
‘And if wishes were horses we’d ride to the fair!’ Delphine snapped. ‘This is all a waste of breath.’
‘Sierra was able to help me only because Rasten and Kell didn’t know she knew I was there,’ Cam said. ‘This is a different matter. Rasten’s seen Isidro as a rival ever since he and Sierra took up together; and as for Kell … Weren’t you the one who said a Blood-Mage always kills his victims to ensure they can’t gain power?’
Delphine pressed her lips together.
‘So there we have it. Kell and Rasten both want him dead. Sirri will do her best, but …’ Cam shrugged. ‘She couldn’t defeat Kell when she had a whole army to feed her power. I just can’t see how this can end well.’
‘Isidro is resilient, clever and resourceful,’ Delphine said. ‘He’s been in bad spots before and pulled himself out.’
‘I hope you’re right, Delphine. I really do.’ Cam stood and pulled out the shovel once again. ‘You might ask Mira to show you how to tie a hook and cast a line. We’re low on supplies, but if you can catch a fish or two we’ll have food in our bellies tonight.’
For the next week she tried to keep herself busy, burying her head in the books as she deepened her understanding of the Ricalani philosophy of mage-craft and searching for any way of making contact with Sierra. Sometimes, to rest her eyes and give her mind a chance to go over what she had learnt, she joined Cam and Mira as they fished in the stream or roved over the hillsides in search of wild food. Ardamon and the others were due to have returned by now, but Cam and Mira showed no concern that they were overdue — the earthquake was likely to have blocked paths and changed the course of streams, and the party had no mages to help them clear the obstacles swiftly. In any case, a delay of a few days seemed unimportant in the face of the loss they’d suffered.
Late morning on the eighth day, a hunting-horn rang out across the hills, bringing Cam charging back to camp from the snares he was checking on the far hillside. ‘That came from our old camp near the landslide,’ he said.
‘That’s what I thought,’ Mira said, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She’d been dozing within the shelter, and came crawling out at the sound. ‘But … we didn’t have a hunting-horn in the gear we took from the Spire, I’m sure of it.’
‘Perhaps they brought one from the homestead,’ Cam said, but there was uncertainty in his voice. ‘Or perhaps Ardamon’s trying to warn us of something.’
Mira gave him a narrow glance.
Cam turned to Delphine. ‘Those books — I suppose everyone knew you brought them from the Spire.’
‘Yes, they must,’ Delphine said. ‘Everyone saw us working with them …’
‘What made you think of that?’ Mira asked Cam, and he shrugged.
‘They’re the only thing we have of any value. And didn’t you say your kin had made some kind of agreement with the Akharians? What happened to the rest of the books from the Spire?’
‘I hid them before we left,’ Delphine said. ‘I knew my people would only take them back to Akhara.’ She shook herself. ‘You’re quite right. We should hide them.’
‘How? There’s no time to bury them —’
‘I have a better way.’ Delphine hurried back to the shelter.
She swiftly excavated a chamber in the rock wall and shoved the books in, wincing as the century-old carved and inscribed leather covers were scraped against the rough stone. She shoved all her notes into the hole as well, rolling them up in sheafs and stuffing them into the gaps. All she kept out were her personal papers, her letters and other important things, which she shoved into the front of her jacket before sealing the cache closed.
The task was just finished when the riders came into sight. Mira started forward, but after a dozen paces she glanced back with a frown. ‘Cam, do you see who’s in the lead?’ Her voice had grown suddenly tight.
‘I do,’ Cam said, and his voice was heavy.
‘What’s wrong?’ Delphine asked. ‘Who is he?’
‘My cousin, Hespero,’ Mira said. ‘He’s Ardamon’s half-brother, one of Dremman’s elder sons.’
Ardamon was riding behind him with one hand on the reins and the other resting on the hunting-horn tied to his belt. Behind them came mounted men wearing Ricalani salmon-skin coats with red tunics peeking out from the collars.
‘Akharians,’ Mira hissed, retreating to stand beside Cam once again.
‘Cousin Mira!’ Hespero called out as the riders drew near. He was smiling, but the expression put Delphine in mind of Mage-Captain Presarius’s smirk, and she decided she didn’t like the man at all. ‘You look well, if a little ragged, and I expect you’ll have had your fill of roughing it after this.’
‘Cousin Hespero,’ Mira replied. ‘What brings you here? I’m surprised Uncle could spare his right-hand man.’
‘Father has entrusted me with a rather delicate mission,’ Hespero said, and then turned his attention to Cam. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you again, your maje
sty.’
Delphine felt Cam go as still as stone beside her. ‘What did you say?’
‘You didn’t know? Your elder brother was killed in that conflagration to the west. You must have heard it from here, surely. The king is dead, long live the king!’
‘We heard it,’ Mira said, and she glanced at the Akharians. ‘Who are these men?’ There were more of them coming into view behind, roughly equal numbers with the Ricalani men. Delphine’s hands began to shake.
‘All in good time, cousin,’ Hespero said. ‘I see the Akharian mage is here, but Cam, tell me, is your foster-brother nearby?’
‘He’s not,’ Cam said.
‘Are you certain? Only these gentlemen,’ he nodded at the foreign soldiers, ‘will be obliged to search. It would be better if he gave himself up.’
Cam folded his arms across his chest. ‘They can search all they like, but they won’t find him. He’s not here.’
‘Where is he?’
Cam said nothing. Delphine opened her mouth, but at his warning glance she shut it again, and laced her fingers together to still their trembling.
Hespero turned to Ardamon. ‘Ardo, bring Mira’s horse forward.’
Ardamon signalled a man to the rear of the party, who led out a milk-white horse with a finely decorated harness, utterly incongruous next to Mira’s worn and filthy clothes.
‘Hespero,’ Mira said, and her voice took on a dangerous tone. ‘You will explain to me what’s going on here.’
‘Why, I’ve come to escort you home, cousin,’ Hespero said. ‘It was most considerate of you to come to the aid of an old lover, but you have a wedding to prepare for.’
‘Oh?’ Mira narrowed her eyes.
‘If you hadn’t ridden off so rashly, you might have had your say in the matter,’ Hespero said. ‘Now it’s too late: all’s been decided.’
Ardamon dismounted to take the horse’s red-dyed reins, and led it over.
‘Ardamon,’ Mira hissed as he came near. ‘What in the Fires Below is going on?’
He cast his brother a dark look. ‘I’m not entirely sure. I wasn’t told about this.’ He raised his eyes to meet Cam’s. ‘But I have a feeling it’s going to end badly. My apologies, Cam. There was no way to turn them around.’
Cam inclined his head, a fraction of an inch. ‘Some things can’t be helped.’
‘Isidro … he’s not here?’
‘He’s well out of this,’ Cam said.
Hespero started his horse forward when they began to talk, and he came close enough to hear just as Cam spoke. ‘It’s a nuisance, but no great matter,’ he said, and raised a hand. ‘We’ll find him eventually.’ At his signal, the Akharian soldiers also started forward. ‘Ardamon, get her out of here.’
Mira snatched the reins and advanced on her cousin, pulling the horse behind her. ‘I’m going nowhere until you tell me what’s going on, Hespero.’
‘Mirasada, haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough in front of our allies?’ Hespero hissed. ‘This is not the time for one of your scenes.’
One of the men coming towards her was a Battle-Mage. Delphine felt his power held poised and ready to strike, and with a sudden pulse of fear she reached for Cam’s arm just as Cam reached for the hilt of his sword. Muttering a curse, he tried to step in front of her, but Delphine seized his sleeve and fumbled in her sash for the stones, keeping her eyes on the advancing mage. ‘Get ready to run,’ she hissed in Mesentreian.
Delphine pulled out a blaster and hurled it to the ground at the man’s feet. It exploded with a dull crack and a flash of white light, tearing the earth apart and blasting clods of mud into the air. She retreated, pulling Cam with her — or perhaps it was Cam pulling her, afterwards she was never quite sure — and as they ran Delphine hurled another stone. They were tiny things, no bigger than the knuckle-bones children used as toys, but the men who saw them coming scrambled from their path as though she’d flung hot coals into a bathhouse. Horses reared and squealed in panic as the second stone hit, and with men shouting in confusion the party broke apart. Somewhere within it, a man was screaming, a raw and guttural howl of pain.
The stones gave them the blessing of confusion, but already men at the back of the party had pulled their frightened horses out of line and spurred them forward, circling around towards Cam and Delphine.
They would need something more to get out of this mess. Delphine shook her hand free from Cam’s and summoned her power. With a single breath — out to centre and ground herself, in to swell her chest as she steadied herself against the rush — Delphine raised her hands, channelling the power from her spine down her arms and to the focus-points on her palms. Then, with a sweeping gesture she sent it out in two violet-coloured jets, twisting and curling like vines that bit into the ground and vanished, branching and spreading out beneath the surface.
A heartbeat later, a twenty-foot stretch of ground between them and the soldiers burst apart into spurting jets of steam and spluttering earth, spitting a protective screen of mist and dirt into the air, a brownish haze as thick as fog.
Then Cam grabbed Delphine by the arm, and they ran.
The soldiers were only a few paces behind, so they didn’t get far. By the time they reached the wall of rock, Delphine had found the rounded white stone tucked into her sash. Cam pulled her up against the stone so that the damp moss and fine, feathery ferns tickled the back of her neck, and Delphine activated the enchantment, casting the camouflaging shield over them both.
A bare instant later, a handful of Akharian soldiers came charging out of the fog. They ran right past their hiding-place, close enough that Delphine could have reached out and touched them.
Other men, some mounted on snorting and sweat-streaked horses and some on foot, emerged slowly from the haze, while an Akharian voice directed the search. Within the steam and fog, the injured man was still screaming, and another fellow shouted for bandages and ordered some unseen person to hold the poor sod still.
It took five minutes for those jets of steam to stop erupting, or as near as Delphine could say as she counted in the deafening silence of her head. She and Cam were hidden in plain sight, and any noise could give them away. She tried to inhale silently, but her heart pounded so hard within her chest that the effort of keeping her breathing slow made her light-headed.
The haze began to clear as the men who had gone running past returned. Hespero had dismounted, and was holding the reins of his twitching, stamping horse with one hand propped on his hip as he consulted with the Akharian commander, their voices rising as their discussion grew heated.
‘Commander, I made it clear that my people have no means to deal with a sorcerer. She was your responsibility, not mine!’
The Akharian, his dark skin flushed even darker with anger, turned back to his assembled men. ‘That mage is a city rat born and bred, she should stand out in this forest like a pox-ridden prick in a temple. Get out there and find her, you useless pack of dogs! The cursed prince, too, I want them both in chains by midday, or I’ll have every fifth man flogged!’
‘Galloric,’ Hespero called to the milling Ricalani men. ‘Detail a dozen men to help search. They must have left some tracks.’
Cam drew a sharp breath at that, but after a moment he relaxed. The milling men and horses and the scattered earth hurled up by Delphine’s blast had covered any prints they’d left.
As the men moved off, Delphine could finally see the extent of the damage she’d wrought. An Akharian man lay limp amid the craters, each one nearly as deep as her waist and as wide as she was tall. The screaming had finally stopped, but a man kneeling at the wounded soldier’s feet was still hurriedly wrapping a bandage around a stump that ended where a shin should have begun.
‘Mira!’ Hespero bellowed, face red and eyes bulging in anger. ‘Mira, get over here! This is ridiculous, there’s nowhere in these wretched hills to hide, you must know where they are!’
Mira had been talking fiercely with Ardamon, but now she left him
holding the reins of her horse and stalked over to Hespero. ‘Cam knows these hills well. He spent enough time in them in the service of our clan, or had you forgotten that?’
‘Curse you, Mira, this is no time to be sentimental! Have you forgotten he’s an Angessovar? A son of the same line that has stolen our lands, left us undefended before invaders? Son of the one who brought Kell to our lands?’
Mira put her hands on her hips. ‘You sound like a Mesentreian yourself, Hespero, with all this talk of bloodlines and sons. Cam is an Angessovar in name only — he is Queen Leandra’s heir, raised and trained by her most trusted advisor. He is the last of the royal line, and the throne is his by right!’
Hespero gave her a thin-lipped smile. ‘No, cousin, it’s ours. The Angessovars are finished, a noxious weed pulled up by the roots, with only a few scraps left awaiting the flames. Do you really think any true northerner will support the last scion of a despised line over the clans they have served and followed all their lives?’
‘How can you think our people would be content to serve alongside those who have raped and murdered their kin and countrymen? How much have you taxed the loyalty of honourable men by asking them to take food and drink with those who brutalised their sisters and daughters? They know full well that if it weren’t for all Cam has done, the folk we freed on the slopes of Demon’s Spire would be halfway to the Akharian slave-markets now. You would be wise not to forget that, Hespero, for I’ll make sure the folk of Ricalan don’t.’
Hespero’s face darkened with anger. ‘Enough of your wretched blather, Mira! Where are they?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ she said with a toss of her head. ‘If you want them, Hespero, you’ll have to find them yourself.’
The search went on all day, with neither of them daring to move a muscle. The Ricalani men withdrew after midday, taking Ardamon and Mira with them, but the Akharian troops remained, along with a second Battle-Mage. She could feel his power as he stalked past their hiding-place, but it seemed he was too drenched with his own power to sense the tiny field their device gave off.
