by Simon Brown
He restrained his own impatience and forced himself to allow the second mare to take more frequent and longer breaks, sometimes even allowing himself to catch snatches of sleep, but by the end of the fourth day it was still too much for the animal. Within sight of the Forest of Silona it simply stopped. Lynan dismounted, and as if this was the signal for release it needed, the horse sank to its knees, lay down and simply stopped breathing.
It was early evening. Clouds covered most of the sky and there was little light. The land seemed grey and empty. Ahead, perhaps fifteen leagues away, was the forest, the focus of all his fear and desire. He started walking.
Near midnight he stopped. He was at the centre of a crest that ran along the western border of a broad valley.
He looked eastwards over the valley and saw the dark, undulating peace of it and was brought to tears. He wiped them away, surprised by the reaction, ashamed he could cry for himself like this, but despite everything that had happened to him he recognised at that moment a part of himself he had not touched since he had been given the vampire's blood, a part that was not interested in fighting or conquest or proving himself, a part of himself that yearned to be nothing more than alive and at rest.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, he ordered, and used his eyesight to study the valley more carefully. Now he recognised it. The Arran Valley, where the mercenary Jes Prado had first caught him all those seasons ago. This was no place of peace. There was no such place anywhere on Theare any more. He turned his back on it and resumed walking towards the forest.
He reached the first scattered stands of summer trees after dawn, their brown leaves already dropping. The clouds had gone overnight and sunlight scattered through the remaining canopy, warming his skin. He could hear the song of bird and insect. In the distance came the lowing of cows on one of the farms in the valley, now out of sight. As he continued walking, the summer trees were joined by wideoaks and then the headseeds, the largest of all the forest trees. The further into the forest he went, the less effect autumn seemed to have on the land. Leaves were still green and supple, the ground still warm and moist. Strangely, despite all the evidence of burgeoning life, there was no longer any sound of bird or insect. High above a breeze stirred the tops of the trees, but the sound of it did not reach the ground.
There was just a great silence, a great stillness. Expectation.
Lynan breathed deeply, closed his eyes and lay down on the ground. He had arrived, and now only had to wait for Silona to find him.
Jenrosa did not know how far ahead was Lynan, but by using her magik to extend the endurance of their mounts she and her escort of Red Hands drove deep into Chandra, resting little, swallowing the leagues. When they finally stopped for the day they all fell into a deep, recuperative sleep, again helped by Jenrosa's magik. Each morning, before light, they were off again, the land gliding by them as if they were at sea with nothing to slow their progress.
Jenrosa, not a natural rider, had to concentrate all the time on staying on her horse, a relief for her, for otherwise her mind would dwell on what would happen once she caught up with Lynan, or on the blank acceptance the Chetts seemed to have for her as their Truespeaker, something she knew with utter certainty she was not and never would be. No Truespeaker would do what I am about to do, she constantly reminded herself. The worst time was at night when they could not risk riding. Clouds scudded across the moon and stars, and every shape and every silhouette reminded Jenrosa of Silona. For all of that, she was far more afraid of Lynan.
Before sleep found her, in her mind's eye the universe seemed to fold and collapse onto one point in time, and each night that point came closer and closer. All her magik seemed to concentrate at that point, and beyond it there was no Lynan at all.
At noon on the fifth day, exhausted and bedraggled, the party could see the outskirts of the forest halfway between them and the horizon. Very quickly Chett scouts found Lynan's dead mare, already partly devoured by scavengers.
'And it was his last mount,' they told her. 'There was only one set of horse tracks.'
'And Lynan?'
'His foot tracks lead straight to the forest.'
'Then we have to hurry!' she cried urgently, and the troop started its last mad dash. Even Jenrosa's magik could not save all the horses this time, and many of the riders dropped behind. By the time the rest of them reached the forest's edge the sun was already down. They urged on their mounts, but they would go no further, some of them even rearing and toppling their riders rather than go under the canopy.
'Make camp here,' she told them. She dismounted, strapped on her sword and dagger, threw her saddlebags over her shoulder, and started walking deeper into the forest.
The Red Hands scrambled to catch up with her. 'What do you think you're doing?' she asked them.
'You are going to find the White Wolf,' said Sunatay, the troop commander, a middle-aged warrior who seemed to have more scar-tissue than skin. 'We will come with you.'
'Your job was to escort me here, and will be to escort Lynan and me back to Daavis,' she told her. 'You cannot come into the forest.'
'But you will be alone!' she said.
'I have to be alone,' Jenrosa said.
It was clear from the Chetts' faces that they did not understand.
'Do you know what lives in the forest?' she asked them.
'Something that wants to harm the White Wolf,' Sunatay said.
'What on earth can harm Lynan?'
The Red Hands looked at one another. It was clear that they did not know.
'Only one thing can,' she told them, 'and her name is Silona.'
The name passed among them like the lick of wind that comes before a storm. They recognised the name, and knew it was associated in some way with the White Wolf. Some of them took a step back from the forest. The fear that rose in them was atavistic, and even Jenrosa could feel it.
'She is so powerful a thousand Chetts could not help Lynan. Only magik can defeat this creature. My magik. You must stay here, rest the horses. I will return with the White Wolf as soon as I can. Wait five nights for us. If we have not returned in that time we will not be coming back at all. Do you understand?'
'Some of us should go with you,' Sunatay persisted. 'You might encounter something else in the forest besides Silona.'
And let you stop me doing what I have to do? Jenrosa thought. I have come too far for that.
'No beast lives in this forest. Stay here. You will only get in my way if you come with me.'
Sunatay looked unhappy, but nodded gruffly. 'Very well. Five nights. Then we come to find you.'
'Rest,' Jenrosa ordered them, and marched into the forest.
When she was out of sight, Sunatay beckoned to a man who looked as if he had seen as much combat as she.
'Rosof, you must take over the troop,' she told him.
'Where are you going?'
Sunatay screwed up her face. 'Where do you think?'
'You're going into the forest by yourself?'
'I will take two others. We will stay hidden from the Truespeaker. I do not want to disturb her magik.'
'Then why go at all?'
'Because it is our duty to protect the White Wolf. Maybe the Truespeaker is right, and we will be useless against Silona, but maybe she is wrong in this. Remember, our ancestors once destroyed all the vampires who lived around the Oceans of Grass. And Rosof, wait three nights, not five. If we are not all back by then, revenge us.'
Lynan had expected her to come on the first night.
He waited with a mix of anticipation and dread, constantly fighting the urge to run away, to make for naked land and clear sky. He lay on his back, staring at the dark canopy, his sword drawn. He listened for any sound that might warn him of her approach, starting every time a branch creaked. On more than one occasion he thought he heard the soft padding of footsteps, but when he sat up and looked around, there was nothing.
When the first fitful rays of dawn penetrated the canopy he fel
t elation, but that evaporated with the realisation he would have to endure a second night in the forest.
Or I could just leave, he told himself. I have done my duty. I came to the forest to slay Silona, but I cannot spend the rest of my life looking for her.
The argument did not work. He knew Silona would come to him eventually. She needed him even more than he desired her. Even if he ran to the furthest corner of Theare he believed she would follow him, in his dreams and in his insanity. There was no escape from her now.
If he had a choice at all any more, it was to force the issue. He stood up, looked around him. There was one part of the surrounding forest that seemed darker and even more foreboding than the rest, and he knew instinctively the heart of Silona's kingdom lay that way. He started walking. His footsteps were the only sound. [ Several hours later, when as far as he could tell the sun was at its highest, he stopped briefly. For less than a heartbeat the sound of footsteps did not. He pretended not to notice.
He resumed walking, keeping up a steady gait. At midafternoon he stopped suddenly. Again, a sound as if his footsteps had caused an echo. He knew it was not
Silona, who could not come out in daylight. Someone had followed him all the way from Daavis after all.
Ager? he wondered. No. The crookback was a wonderful rider, but his injuries meant he could not walk swiftly, and certainly not silently. Gudon, then.
Perhaps. Korigan? No. She would stay with the army.
Jenrosa?
Yes. It made sense. And yes, he realised then, it was she who had freed him from his insanity back in Daavis.
Only Jenrosa would have had that kind of power, and the fact that it had been Jenrosa who first gave him
Silona's blood gave her magik extra leverage. What had Silona said about Jenrosa? That she was the one he loved. He had denied it, and only now was beginning to understand how much of a lie that had been. He had told himself it was not true because she had chosen Kumul over him. Should he call out to her? Was she still afraid that he was mad? Or possessed, even?
Yes, time to end this particular game.
He turned swiftly on his heel, smiling broadly.
And saw a man.
He stood thirty or forty paces away, between the grey trunks of two headseeds, more silhouette than shape.
'I knew you heard my footsteps,' the man said.
There was something vaguely familiar about the voice. For that matter there was something vaguely familiar about the silhouette. Lynan's smile disappeared,
'How long have you been following me?'
The man moved, not towards Lynan but around him, as if there was an invisible wall between them.
'From the moment you entered the forest.'
'You were with me last night,' Lynan said, remembering the soft padding.
'I was watching you.' By now he was between Lynan and the deeper forest, and Lynan could see the figure was dressed in a short coat.
'Who are you?'
'I think you have come far enough, Lynan Rosetheme. Go back to your people.'
Lynan walked towards him. At first the figure retreated, but then stopped, legs apart, as if he would physically bar his way. As he drew closer, Lynan saw more detail. The man had long hair that rat-tailed over his shoulders, and he was wearing a coat that was too small for him; but the face was bowed slightly and he could not see it from the shadows.
'You have come far enough,' the man repeated. 'Go back. I would not hurt you.'
Lynan continued advancing. 'I have come this far to see a queen, I would not go back now.'
'The queen of the Dead,' the man laughed harshly. 'She is the one who does the visiting.'
Lynan drew his sword. 'Not any more.'
The man lifted his face, and Lynan stopped in his tracks.
'You knew me once,' the man said.
It was the smell that first hit Lynan. It rose like a vapour from the background of rotting humus. The face was familiar, but there was still too much shadow…
And then he realised it was not shadow at all.
'I know you still,' Lynan said, trying to keep his voice under control. He took a step backwards.
The man spread his coat. 'I still look after it for you.'
'Roheth,' he whispered pitiably. He remembered what the forester had been like when he had helped Lynan and his companions escape from Silona's grasp the first time they had met her: proud and strong and determined. By taking Lynan's coat, Roheth had wanted to throw the vampire off the travellers' scent.
'The ruse with the coat worked for two nights. Silona came back to my village, thinking you were still with us.'
'I'm sorry…'
'But she was driven, you see. She had sensed the Key of Power hanging around your neck.'
'I'm sorry…'
'And in the end nothing could save me.' Roheth stepped forward. A beam of light struck what was left of his cheek, showed the bone underneath. 'I paid the price of my hospitality.'
'You have become one of her hounds.'
Roheth laughed grimly. 'Oh yes. I herd her prey. I captured Belara once. Do you remember my wife?'
'Yes.'
'She is no more.' The voice was heavy with grief, but carried with it an obscene undercurrent of glee. 'And Mira, little Mira. Gone, too. And Seabe…'
'Stop.'
'But she still came after you, Lynan Rosetheme. Her mind had touched the Key and she wanted you.'
'I can revenge your wife, Roheth, and your daughter. And Seabe, too. I can revenge all of those she has killed.'
Roheth shook his head. His neck creaked. 'I am her hound. I serve her completely.'
'If that was so, you would have tried to kill me last night. You know what I intend.'
'Now, but not then. Silona does not want you dead. Not yet anyway. You only have two of the Keys. But I will not let you harm her. She is all that is left in this world that I can love and I will not let you hurt her. Turn back, Lynan Rosetheme, or I will kill you. This is your last warning.'
Lynan strengthened his grip on the sword. 'Flee, Roheth. I would not slay you.'
'I am already slain, you fool.'
Lynan swung with all his strength. The hound caught the blade in its left hand, cutting out a wedge of bone and rotten flesh, and yanked down. The sword was ripped out of Lynan's fingers. The creature's right hand shot out and punched Lynan in the neck. He fell back gasping, tripped over a root and landed heavily on his back. Before he could recover the hound was kneeling on his chest, its hands scrabbling around his throat. Lynan twisted from one side to the other. The hound rattled like a bag of bones but held on.
'I will eat you myself,' Roheth hissed, and his fingers squeezed harder.
Just as Lynan started blacking out he felt something hold unconsciousness at bay, and then push it back. It was the rage returned, redoubled in strength, and it filled him with liquid fire. His fingers found Roheth's head, felt the creature's skin slip loosely on the skull, grasped even tighter, and he twisted with all his strength. There was a crack and Roheth howled and fell back. Lynan kicked himself to his feet and retrieved his sword. The hound was squirming on the ground like a cut snake, its head snapping from side to side, its body jerking feebly.
Lynan roared and brought the sword down on the creature's neck. The head rolled away, the jaws snapping open and shut, its eyes rolling in their sockets. He brought the blade down again, and again, and again, splitting open the skull. Shards of white bone flew into the air, stung his cheeks. He struck until all the fire in him was out, extinguished, purified, and he clambered away from the slaughter he had made, stumbling deeper into the forest, the darkness closing about him.
Jenrosa tried to keep walking during the night, but she tripped over so many roots and rocks, banged her knees and head against so many branches, that in the end, exhausted, she simply gave up and slumped against a tree. She needed sleep, and knew it, but her fear for Lynan made her heart-sick and would not let her rest. She drew from the saddlebag a strip from
one of Lynan's shirts, burned it, kept aside half the ashes and threw the remainder into the air. They drifted towards the centre of the forest. Then she cleared a space among the leaf litter and asked questions of the earth. Lynan was ahead of her, and although Silona was not yet with him something else was, a creature she did not recognise but which sent a shiver down her spine.
She closed her eyes and searched for the point beyond which there was no sign of Lynan, and it was imminent. Tonight, perhaps, tomorrow night at the latest. For a long time she had been afraid it meant Lynan's death, but now she was more afraid it meant something far worse: Lynan's complete surrender to Silona and his passing into that other existence.
She could not wait for dawn. She got to her feet again and started walking, keeping one arm above her head to ward off any branches. She still fell many times, cutting her hands and face. She stopped at first light to throw the remainder of the ashes, and following the direction they drifted then, came across his tracks. He was still alive, and still apart from Silona.
Encouraged and renewed, she picked up her pace, walking for many hours until she found the remains of some horrific struggle. Whatever it was—whatever it had been—had almost certainly been the creature she saw revealed in the earth magik. She remembered stories told by Roheth and the other foresters who had given her and Lynan refuge the first time they had travelled through Silona's domain, stories about her hounds, the humans Silona changed to hunt down food for her.
This is what she will turn Lynan into. The thought drove her on, recklessly. She would do anything to stop that from happening.
Silona had saved his life again, Lynan knew. The anger that had filled him in his struggle against Roheth had been hers, a rage fuelled by the knowledge that one of her own creatures would try and harm Lynan. But now she knew where he was and would come for him. He also knew she must now understand she had no choice but to kill him or change him forever, otherwise he would kill her. Why else, once free of her in Daavis, would he come to her domain?
'I will wait for you here,' he said aloud, knowing the forest would hear him. It was not yet dark, but he would go no further. He gathered together what dry leaves and wood he could find and started a fire. The warm flames raised his spirits somewhat, and the smoke disappearing through the canopy reminded him that there was a world outside the forest. He shrugged off his poncho and put it aside neatly. Then his sword belt and sheath, which he lay across the poncho. He needed no unnecessary encumbrances for this fight. He squatted in front of the fire, planted his sword in front of him, and waited.
