Mathias had found the ability to change into a horse increasingly simple and could now take on the form with the ease that Warin demonstrated. He trailed behind them now, his hooves picking carefully along the path. They had passed huge lakes of clear water reflecting the blue of the sky like a mirror, seen mountains perpetually crowned with snow and followed rivers along deep defiles that the sun never reached. It was an experience that left her feeling dizzy and light-headed, and more than a little gleeful. She could not remember ever feeling so free of responsibility in her entire life. Something about the wonder and thrill of travelling numbed the dread of what had become of her home.
Warin picked up speed as the path began to curve away and down. Tagan felt the brief sting of disappointment as they passed through the cloud bank and back out into the clean Swiss air. The threat of snow was heavy in the clouds, which now loomed above them, dark and threatening. Just clouds now, and no longer something wispy or ethereal.
They were heading southwest, following the sweep of the mountains and keeping well above the floor of a broad valley. Sometimes when they stopped for the night they would see the lights of civilisation below, but Warin insisted they keep to his route. When pressed on the subject, he claimed repeatedly that it was more direct. Tagan was beginning to harbour suspicions that he was not being entirely truthful with them.
The path beneath them began to widen out and Warin increased the pace. He was pushing himself hard today. She felt it in the play of the horse’s muscles across his neck and flank, and in the heavy panting of both horses as they ran for all they were worth. She couldn’t get rid of the faintest tickle of guilt that she was not contributing to their efforts. The days of riding had already made her legs and back ache, but she knew that it would pass. Their food was meagre, and although Warin hunted and provided meat for the fire, amidst the mountains, pickings had not been good. All three of them had lost weight and were tired, even Tagan.
She reached her arms more tightly around Warin’s neck and hugged him fiercely. ‘We need to stop for a while,’ she said quietly. ‘Mathias is getting left behind.’ It was true; the pony was entirely failing to keep pace. Warin snorted, tossing his magnificent mane, and dropped into a gentle trot before stopping altogether. The pony caught up a few minutes later.
Tagan slid off the horse’s back and crossed to Mathias. She patted his neck gently. ‘We have to stop,’ she said. ‘We can’t keep up this pace. It’s killing you both.’
Warin shifted form first, Mathias following his lead. The fierce man folded his arms across his barrel chest and studied Tagan. ‘It’s not killing us,’ he said, defensively. ‘It is just hard work. Isn’t that right, boy?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’ve never been a horse before. Am I supposed to have this burning in my chest?’ Sweat rolled off his forehead and there was a pallor to his skin that did not look at all healthy. Tagan put a hand to his cheek and frowned.
‘You’re running a fever,’ she said. ‘I think maybe you have caught some illness in the mountains.’ On cue, Mathias sneezed, startling all three of them. He grinned sheepishly, then sneezed again. Tagan tightened her lips and set her jaw.
Mathias knew that look.
She turned to the Shapeshifter. ‘Warin, he’s ill and needs warmth and rest. We aren’t like you. We haven’t lived our lives like this. We’ve barely been beyond the borders of our village before. He needs to stop. There is no way we can keep this kind of pace up. Is there no other way to find this Pirate King?’
Warin studied Mathias for a few minutes, and the gruff exterior melted away under a look of genuine concern. ‘If he is unwell, then he should not shift. Human illnesses can sometimes... I don’t know the word... change, when you are in animal form. Become something worse.’ He studied the pair. ‘I cannot hope to carry you both. Let’s find somewhere to rest for now and I will think on what to do.’ They had never heard him speak so kindly. For a moment, suspicion flickered into Tagan’s eyes, but she saw that Warin’s kindness was not forced.
‘Thank you,’ she said, crossing to him and taking his gnarled and dirty hands in her own. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, where she could find a patch of skin beneath the wild beard.
‘Get on with you, girl.’ He pushed her gently away, but he seemed pleased. Fire, after all, was not her only magic. ‘Get the boy as warm as you can and stay safe. I will be back before night falls.’ Without waiting to explain further, he shifted into horse-form and set off at top speed. Tagan watched him go and felt a sliver of fear in her heart. She fought it down and turned her attentions to Mathias, who was sniffling pitifully. She needed to concentrate her efforts into caring for her betrothed.
‘I can see a cave a little way up the cliff side,’ she said, offering him her hand. ‘Let’s go inside.’
He wrapped his fingers into hers and let himself be led up the hill a little way. She watched him carefully. There were high spots of colour on each cheek and his eyes were far too bright. Whatever he was suffering was probably nothing serious, but enough to lay him low for a while. And he was the one with the knowledge of plants and herbs and healing poultices. But she did not let her concern show. She watched him carefully as they walked, still hand in hand, to the cave.
The cave, once they stepped inside, clearly barely deserved the name. It was large enough for the two of them to take shelter, as long as they kept huddled close together, and at least it was better than sitting on the freezing ground outside. She made sure he was as comfortable as he was likely to get and conjured a small fire to keep them both warm and to light the tiny space. There was no wood for her to burn, but it didn’t matter when she could manipulate fire however she pleased. She selected a flat spot on the floor, and within a few short moments a small, cheerful fire was crackling on the stone.
Just the sound was comforting. She had conjured a number of cooking fires during the days of travel, but this was different. This was a fire purely for warmth and protection. She felt her affinity with the element swell as she listened to the gentle pop of the flames. There may have been no wood to burn, but Tagan knew how a comforting home fire should sound.
Shadows flickered and danced on the walls, and she watched them for a while until her eyes grew heavy with a weariness she had been denying for a few days. She curled around the already-sleeping Mathias to wait for Warin’s return.
There was nothing more she could do.
Bavaria
Germany
WEAVER AND HIS knights came to a stop at the brow of a grassy hill. Below them, a dark, rolling forest stretched northwards as far as the eye could see. It was periodically studded with lakes, rivers and crags, and the ten knights stared at it uncertainly. If the people they sought were hidden within those woods, it would take a hundred men a lifetime to dig them out. The Lord Inquisitor peered at the forest for a long time and then slowly turned in the saddle until he looked south.
‘They were here,’ he declared after a while. ‘They passed this way.’ The knights shared a puzzled look but did not argue. After the episode in the farmhouse, they had been increasingly wary of Weaver, not entirely convinced that they weren’t following a madman. Once they left France behind, they had slowed their pace and both man and beast had been grateful for the respite. With no certain way of replacing them, they could not longer afford to be so hard on the animals.
Weaver pointed to the forbidding mass of the mountains that lay to the south. ‘There. They have gone south. If we make haste, we should be able to catch them before they reach the peaks.’
The Lord Inquisitor spurred his mount and they once again began to ride.
The Alps
Switzerland
WHEN TAGAN WOKE, dusk had long passed and stars twinkled in the sky beyond the mouth of the cave. The magical fire had burned out not long after she had fallen asleep, and she was shivering in the cold night air. She reignited the fire and turned her attentions immediately to Mathias. The chill could be dangerous. Much
to her relief, he was still sleeping, and the heat of his fever had subsided a little. She kissed his cheek softly and drew her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.
Warin had promised to return before nightfall, and he had not made good on that promise. She didn’t believe for a second that the gruff man had abandoned them to their fate in the mountains. She wouldn’t believe it. There was some other explanation for his prolonged absence. Everything would be fine.
She stretched over Mathias to reach the bag that she had carried with her from Warin’s camp in the forest, and rummaged through it. There was a little cold meat left over from a kill a day or two before and some flat fire-baked bread. She ate them hungrily and took a sip of water from the waterskin. The hills had been hard to traverse, but at least had offered fresh water from the many little rivers and streams. They could survive long enough to cross the mountains. The thought of it calmed the roiling anxiety in her gut.
Mathias continued to sleep, but he responded well enough when she shook him gently to make sure that he was simply sleeping and hadn’t passed into unconsciousness. He grumbled and curled up tighter, muttering something about ‘five more minutes,’ and her worries melted still further. He had just caught a cold or something of that ilk. She remembered the time her father had been ill with a similar thing; he had been certain his days were numbered.
She patted his back fondly and squeezed past him to take a look out of the cave entrance, and gasped in delight. It was the first time that she had truly looked up into the night sky since they had left the confines of the forest. At every stopping point, as they travelled through the hills and valleys, they had been in some way sheltered: clumps of pines, overhangs... But from the cave on the side of the cliff, her view of the diamond-studded night sky was completely and utterly unobstructed.
Not a single cloud spoiled the view of the thousands of twinkling stars decorating the velvet sky. She stared up into the beauty of the heavens and all of her worries melted away. She instinctively felt drawn to the power of the world and all that made it such a glorious place. A fleeting understanding of her own tiny insignificance filled her soul, but rather than bringing despair in its wake, she felt intense gratitude.
I may be as nothing next to the heavens above me, she thought, but I am here, nonetheless.
‘Tagan!’
Warin’s voice. She turned to see the red-haired man stomping up the side of the hill towards her. She pulled herself out of the cave entrance and waved to attract his attention.
‘Over here,’ she called, watching her breath ghost in the air before her. Warin nodded and made his way across the grass and rocks to her side.
‘How is he?’
‘He will be fine,’ she said, reassuringly. ‘He just needed rest, I think.’
‘Good. Come morning, we need to be on the move again. We have not so far to go. I have made a change of plans. De Luna will come to us.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Once we are together, we can increase our speed. We will be much quicker.’
Tagan looked at him and saw a flicker of concern in his eyes. ‘What is it?’ In the depths of her soul she was afraid of the answer, but she asked the question anyway. ‘Is something wrong?’
Warin shook his head. ‘I am worried for the boy, nothing more,’ he said, but Tagan was not entirely convinced. He changed the subject before she could pry further. ‘I feel I should warn you about de Luna and his particular brand of nonsense, as well.’
‘Nonsense?’
‘You are a pretty girl. Giraldo de Luna likes pretty girls. You should beware of that.’
Tagan flushed at the unexpected compliment. ‘I am engaged to be married,’ she said, perhaps just a little more primly than she would normally have gone for. ‘I am sure he will understand that.’
Warin smiled flatly. ‘Perhaps,’ he said.
Hampton Court
England
‘I UNDERSTAND WHAT you are saying, Father, but why must I go?’
At nineteen years old, the future King Richard the Sixth was a startlingly attractive man. Thanks to his mother’s blood, his hair was a deep, rich auburn and his eyes were green as ocean pools. The young women at court—and some of the older ones as well— already found themselves watching his every move. Slim, but with the promise of filling out to mirror his father’s muscular build, the young prince was popular amongst the people of his country.
For much of his youth and young manhood, the prince heeded the impassioned words of his father. He knew the importance of destroying magic across the country. He believed all that the King said and he never questioned. At least, he had never questioned before. Now, however, he had doubts.
‘Magic is an affliction of the isle that must be purged. I know. I do not need to see it.’ He did not whine. It was a simple statement of fact and one that had been taught to him since he was old enough to understand. King Richard lamented the thoroughness of his son’s education every bit as much as he lamented what he was doing. At that particular moment he lamented a great many things. He felt wretched.
‘Very true, boy, but a swordsman does not learn his skill through study alone. He masters his art by doing.’ In his heart he wanted his son to make an argument so compelling that he had no choice but to agree, but he knew the prince too well. Young Richard would not be able to resist the surprise that was going to be offered.
It was the surprise that came after which the King dreaded. ‘Are you suggesting that I should perform magic?’ The prince offered no change of expression and his voice was neutral. His deadpan response did not impress the King, who scowled at him.
‘Don’t be obtuse, boy. You know what I mean. Experience tempers a man, gives him wisdom. You should witness magic for yourself. Feel its power. In so doing, you will better understand the wickedness of its nature.’
The prince gave a huge sigh and King Richard felt a twinge of annoyance, despite his desire to lose the argument. He did not like the sting of defiance, even from his own son.
‘But Father, what of the banquet? The dance? There are already so many plans. Father, I don’t really want to spend my birthday in a field staring at some filthy magi grubbing through the dirt for worms to sacrifice.’
‘It is not a field, Richard,’ the King replied. ‘It is the oldest site of power in this country. Perhaps even the world. There will be a gathering of magi unlike any that has happened in England since the birth of our line.’
‘So why not simply have the Inquisition remove them before it can happen? Why wait until my birthday to have it done?’ Now he was whining.
The King gave his son a brittle smile before he paced the length of the room and back. ‘Because they only gather there on that day, and it will be easier by far than hunting them individually. And, Richard’—the King drew a deep breath and cursed himself inwardly—‘because Isaac Bonnington assures me that the Lionheart will be completed by then.’
The prince’s eyes widened. ‘You want me to command the Lionheart during the attack?’
King Richard nodded, and for a moment did not trust himself to say anything. He felt a lump in his throat. ‘Yes,’ he replied huskily. Then he cleared his throat and continued with more certainly. ‘Yes. I want you to witness the truth of magic for yourself, and I want you with me in the Lionheart.’
Prince Richard gave his father a huge smile. ‘Then the King shall have what he wishes.’ His insouciant air was frustrating at times. What the King would have given to have been so free from care.
Richard’s heart sank like a stone at the boy’s delight. He had known his son would not be able to resist the offer. He had lied about the magi. There had been no magic in Salisbury since the rise of the Inquisition. All that would be there would be his son. In a powerful stone circle. At dusk.
On the day of the solstice.
The Alps
Switzerland
MATHIAS’S BRIEF INDISPOSITION had more or less passed, come the dawn of the next day, and he found himself subject to gentle tea
sing from Tagan and slightly less gentle mockery from Warin. They had resumed their journey, this time in human form, at a slower pace. He bore the teasing with good grace, occasionally laughing along mechanically, but without much humour. Tagan walked beside him, her fingers laced through his, and did her best to lift his flagging spirits.
Warin stomped ahead of the pair, occasionally muttering under his breath. His mood, although sour, was less aggressive than it had been. Tagan watched his stoop-shouldered back and her eyes grew thoughtful. There was a new urgency to the mage’s manner and while he seemed happy enough to walk, she got the sense that if it were not for Mathias’s health, he would have been running.
‘Where are we heading?’ The question came from Mathias—the first time he had spoken since they had left the cave—and Tagan started in surprise. The narrow cliff path called for concentration and careful steps. None of them had any great urge to step badly and ride the scree to the bottom.
‘A lake. Big one,’ Warin said over his shoulder. ‘De Luna will meet us there.’
‘Can he shapeshift as well?’ Mathias was curious. Warin shrugged.
‘After a fashion, yes. His is the power of the oceans, the seas and the rains.’
‘He can turn into a fish?’
‘No, not precisely.’ Warin stopped to look at Mathias. ‘You will see soon enough. Now come along.’
Genoa
Italy
THE WINDS HAD been fine and the tides favourable, but then, de Luna reflected, they always were. He stood on the prow of the Hermione as it slipped into Genoa harbour and he smiled, Mahón already forgotten. He had no doubt that there would be new opportunities to make a little coin, renew a few old friendships and make some new conquests. A gust of wind plucked at his hat and he laughed. Then something arcane tickled his senses and the smile fell from his face.
Heirs of the Demon King: Uprising Page 17
