“He says that his name is Majcher, and he is high steward to Prince Stanislaw of Polyznia. All who gather here, on this southern riverbank, must apparently pay tax for the privilege. That’s why we have the honor of his visit. But now that he knows who you are, that is forgotten: all royals and their retinue are exempt.” Grimalkin lowered her voice a little. “Now we come to our first problem—he is surprised that you travel with such a small escort. I suspect he doubts you are who you claim to be.”
I opened my mouth, but Grimalkin was already speaking, so I closed it again. She had a lot to say.
Once again she turned to give me a translation of what she’d said to Majcher.
“I told him that you are the seventh and youngest son of your father; a favorite who is well loved and held on a short leash lest he come to harm. I said that this has made you impatient, as you have a natural love of adventure. Thus, when you heard of the events on the bank of the Shanna River, you rode off in the night to come here and challenge the Shaiksa assassin. I said that your father, the king, was concerned by your departure; he dispatched me and one servant girl to ride after you and keep you safe. Your retinue follows and should arrive any day.”
“But we know that’s not going to happen,” I replied. “What about when they don’t appear?”
“We’ll worry about that later,” she said. “Now I am going to ask him about the protocol for challenging Kauspetnd.”
She turned to the steward again, and they continued to talk in Losta; this time the discussion went on for some time. At last Grimalkin turned and gave me the gist of what had been said.
“Now it is my turn to come under scrutiny,” she observed, her eyes flickering with amusement. “He wonders why your father should send a woman to protect you. I confirmed what I believe he suspected already, that I am a witch. Each of these princelings has a pet mage, a magowie they consult, so I informed him that in our part of the world, witches perform a similar role. I also told him that not only am I skilled in the arts of combat, I am your father’s champion. Who else was better fitted to follow and act as your protector?”
“Does he believe all that you told him?” I asked.
Grimalkin shrugged. “I do not think that he is totally persuaded, but it is his master, the prince, called the Wolf of Polyznia by his subjects, whom we must convince. Now Majcher is leaving to report back to him. When we finally meet the prince, I will use a little magic to ease the process.”
The warrior nodded to me, climbed onto his horse, and led his men away.
“So far, so good,” Grimalkin said with a smile.
The five men returned on foot before noon, and after a brief conversation, Grimalkin translated for me.
“We are to be given an audience with Prince Stanislaw, but must leave our weapons behind. The high steward gives his assurance that he will escort us there and back and, if necessary, protect us with his life.”
“Do you believe him?” I asked.
“I think Majcher is speaking the truth. But to achieve what we need here, there must be risk, and we are in no position to refuse.”
I nodded and handed the Starblade to Jenny. Grimalkin disarmed herself too, removing each blade from its sheath and finally handing Jenny her scissors. I never thought I’d see her willingly give up her weapons like this, and the look on Jenny’s face showed that she was thinking the same thing.
“Stay behind and guard our possessions, girl!” Grimalkin commanded as we set off.
I could tell by her expression that Jenny was far from happy at being left behind. I had told her about what had happened during the night; she was worried about Grimalkin’s plan, and keen to accompany us. “Can’t you use a spell again?” I asked.
Grimalkin shook her head. “I don’t wish to risk arousing people’s suspicions. What’s more, the girl is supposed to be the servant of a prince; she would not accompany you to visit another of royal blood—whereas I am your champion.”
With no spell of protection to guard them, someone did need to stay behind, or we might return to find our horses, provisions, and weapons gone. I didn’t expect Jenny to fight off a band of determined robbers, but her presence would be a deterrent to opportunistic thieves.
The high steward walked ahead, our escort behind. We wound our way through the huge camp, passing tents of all sizes, until at last we came to a big circle of fires surrounded by vigilant guards armed with spears. Within this stood the largest tent I had ever seen. It was as big as three County cottages combined. Instead of the usual cone covered in animal skins, it was a giant oblong made from a heavy brown material.
I was uneasy and a little scared. Even if we could somehow persuade this prince to allow me to fight the Shaiksa, I saw nothing ahead but failure and death. I did not share Grimalkin’s optimism. How could I hope to defeat such a formidable foe in single combat?
Majcher scowled at us, then went inside, leaving us surrounded by guards. A few moments later he reappeared, spoke briefly to Grimalkin, and then held up the tent flap so that we could enter without bowing our heads.
I gasped in astonishment at the inside of the tent. I could have been entering a palace. The walls were hidden by silken tapestries; most of the floor was covered with the same brown fabric as the tent walls, but there was a raised central dais constructed of polished wood and adorned with a variety of expensive woven carpets. Upon this stood a huge gleaming throne, fashioned from some alloy that contained silver. Upon it reclined Prince Stanislaw, a big man with close-cropped gray hair, a large nose, and close-set eyes. He was not young, probably the wrong side of fifty.
I’d always thought of a prince as a young man preparing to replace his aging father on the throne. But this wasn’t a kingdom; it was a principality, and this was its ruler.
Behind the throne stood a huge barrel-chested warrior, his arms folded, a stern expression on his face. His breastplate was engraved with the arms of the prince: a wolf howling at the moon. He seemed far from happy to see us.
Grimalkin would certainly need her magic to bend this prince to her will.
She bowed low and then addressed the prince, gesturing toward me. We were supposedly equal in rank, so I gave him the briefest of bows; more of a nod, really. In return, he gazed at me in silence, studying me like a predator judging the distance to its prey. Then he gave me a condescending smile and spoke to Grimalkin again.
“He says that he thinks it best that you return to your father,” she translated. “I don’t think he’s impressed by your youthful appearance. He has a new champion who he believes will have a real chance against Kauspetnd—that’s the fat warrior standing behind the throne who has yet to smile.”
I almost let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps this strong-minded prince could not be manipulated. This might put an end to Grimalkin’s scheme.
“Despite the prophecies of the three magowie, the princelings here have their own take on events,” Grimalkin continued. “If his champion wins, then Prince Stanislaw will lead the attack on the Kobalos, and the glory and prestige will fall to him. But I will tell him that you are prepared to fight his champion for the right to fight the Shaiksa assassin. Neither prince nor champion are likely to refuse, as there are precedents; already there has been much jostling for power here. As your champion, I could fight him on your behalf, but it’s best if you show your bravery and fighting prowess.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but met the fierce glare of the witch assassin, willing me to silence. Then her face softened, and she smiled.
“Things are going well!” she told me.
28
A Premonition of Death
IT was useless to object, so I watched nervously as Grimalkin offered my challenge to the prince’s champion. As she spoke, the man behind the throne glared at me angrily; I could see the veins in his neck standing out. He probably felt insulted to receive a challenge from someone who looked to be barely more than a boy.
We were escorted back to our camp by Majcher and his s
oldiers, who still seemed none too friendly. Indeed, when the high steward left, two of the soldiers stayed behind.
“What do they want?” I asked Grimalkin. “Are we under guard?”
She shook her head. “No, they are here to protect us and guard our camp.”
As I thought over what had just happened, my anger at Grimalkin grew. Now I was facing two fights against formidable opponents. I failed to see how I could win either.
I slumped down in front of the fire and stared into the flames.
“What’s wrong?” Jenny asked, warming her hands.
I shrugged but made no reply.
“I know you aren’t happy,” she persisted. “Why don’t you talk about it? Getting it off your chest will make you feel better.”
“It’s just that my death has now been arranged twice over,” I said. “Before I face the Kobalos assassin, I have to fight the prince’s champion.”
“It is scheduled to take place in three days, but you won’t have to fight that warrior. This I guarantee,” said Grimalkin, sitting down cross-legged beside me.
“How can you be so sure? Have you scryed it?” I asked.
She didn’t answer me directly. “All will be well. Focus your mind on the Shaiksa—he and he alone will you fight. It could not have worked out better. This Prince Stanislaw is the most powerful by far of the rulers gathered here. We will win his respect; eventually we’ll control him, and the rest will fall into line.”
Grimalkin proved to be correct. Less than twenty-four hours later, the news arrived that the prince’s champion had suffered an injury while training and would be incapacitated for at least a month. I was to be permitted to take his place and face Kauspetnd; I had almost two weeks to prepare.
“Did you scry that he’d suffer an injury?” I asked as we walked toward the river to watch the fight between the Shaiksa and his next challenger. With the prince’s men now guarding our camp, Jenny had been able to join us and was following close behind.
Grimalkin nodded. “Yes, it was almost certain to happen, but if it hadn’t, I would have arranged something to make it so,” she said with a smile.
The fight didn’t last long. The human challenger was young and scared, and the whole thing was over in less than a minute. I noticed Jenny cover her eyes when he ended up on his knees, shrieking in agony, trying to prevent his guts from spilling out into the water.
A second later there was silence. With one blow, the Shaiksa struck his opponent’s head from his body and put an end to the screams.
I felt sick to my stomach. The assassin was too good. What chance did I have against such a warrior?
Jenny kept shaking her head, her face pale. “It was awful,” she said, her voice quavering with emotion. “At the end, just before he fell into darkness, he was so afraid.”
I put my hand on her shoulder in sympathy. It was a terrible thing to have such empathy. But I was proud of her. She had faced up to it. Back in the County, at the haunted house, she had run away, but not this time.
Grimalkin seemed unmoved by the death we’d just witnessed. The watching crowd was subdued after seeing Kauspetnd triumph yet again. With each victory he demonstrated the superior powers of the Kobalos. No human challenger could match him.
“Well, what have you learned today?” Grimalkin asked as we walked back toward our camp across the frozen ground.
I thought carefully about what I had seen.
“He fights with two blades but has more skill with his left. I should press him on his right side.”
“No,” said Grimalkin. “Press him on his stronger side for the first fifteen minutes. He will think that you have failed to spot his slight weakness. Make no mistake, he knows each facet of his combat abilities and has worked hard to improve them. But then you should switch suddenly and press him on his right. In this way, you might just win an early victory.”
“Wait for fifteen minutes?” cried Jenny, aghast. “I doubt whether any challenger has ever lasted even five against him.”
Grimalkin glared at her angrily. “Your master will last the course, but it may be a long fight,” she insisted, turning her gaze back to me. “If things go badly, it might take you more than an hour to kill him. Tomorrow I will begin your training. Soon you will start to feel more confident. Listen well, for I will speak truly now. You are already an excellent swordsman. I think you have the potential to become great—perhaps peerless. To achieve that, you will need just two things: practice and self-belief.”
I had fought successfully against opponents before, but I still felt that Kauspetnd was more than a match for me. Grimalkin was simply trying to bolster my confidence. That was why she’d looked so angry when Jenny challenged her.
The witch assassin was as good as her word. Each morning we went in among the dark trees and fought for hours. Grimalkin had trained me before—I still had the scars to prove it—but here she pressed me so hard that at times I feared for my life. Jenny looked on and winced from the sidelines.
On the first day of training, while I was resting between bouts, trying to get my breath back, Grimalkin turned to stare at Jenny. “One day, girl, you too may have to fight for your life. Have you any skill with blades?”
Jenny shook her head.
Grimalkin drew a throwing blade from its scabbard. “Catch!” she commanded, throwing it slightly to Jenny’s left.
I watched it turn over and over in the air, but Jenny reached out and caught it as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Grimalkin smiled. “You have good reactions, child. I will train you too.”
“Just so long as you don’t expect me to fight the Shaiksa!” Jenny retorted.
And so, in the intervals between our own bouts, the witch assassin began training her. She took it slowly, showing her how to position her feet and achieve the grace and balance necessary in combat. She also instructed her in the art of throwing blades.
It gave me a brief respite, but all too soon, it was my turn to fight again.
When we fought, the witch assassin used the two sabers she had demanded of me back in Chipenden. Had she been planning this even then? Had her intention been for me to fight Kauspetnd all along? It seemed very likely.
Now she used those sabers just as the assassin had, assuming both his strengths and weaknesses; thus the practice could not have been better matched to what I’d eventually face.
She also taught me what she called her dance of death—the whirling, spinning sequence of attacks that were hard to defend against.
Each time the Kobalos fought a new human challenger, we were there, watching, and each time Grimalkin learned something new to pass on to me. I tried to detect any weaknesses myself, but could find none. The Shaiksa seemed flawless, and none of the challengers lasted more than a minute or two. The contests were very one-sided, but one thing had changed.
It hadn’t rained for some time, and I wondered whether up in the mountains, as winter approached, the source of the river was now frozen. Whatever the reason, the river was far lower than it had been when we first arrived. The contests no longer took place in swirling water; they were now mostly fought on dry stones, accompanied by the crunch of boots on gravel.
Somehow I still found time each day to teach my apprentice her trade. It helped to keep my nerves at bay. We were both missing the County; this chilly camp on a riverbank was very different from our life in Chipenden—the life she’d expected to lead as a spook’s apprentice.
“I wish we could go home,” she said. It was a sentiment she expressed at least three times each day.
“What do you miss most?” I asked, wondering if I could make things here more bearable for her.
“The trees—ash, oak, and sycamore. The ones here are all conifers, and they all look the same. And I miss people talking in words I can understand. I really do need to make an effort to learn the language.”
“Grimalkin did promise that we’d return before the onset of winter, before the journey becomes
impossible. She’ll keep her word,” I replied.
“A lot has to happen before then,” she said sadly. “You have to defeat that creature. Can you do it? And don’t put on a show of confidence for me; I can sense your fear and doubt.”
“Of course I’m afraid,” I told her, annoyed to find her using her gift of empathy to discover how I was feeling. “But bravery is about overcoming fear. We are all afraid at times. What matters is rising above it.”
“But do you really think you can win? Some of those slain here are the champions of princes, warriors who’ve spent their lives training in combat. A few lessons from the witch are hardly going to help you defeat him. You’re a spook—your staff is your main weapon.”
“I defeated that beast in the tree,” I pointed out.
“That beast was young and still learning to be a mage—that’s what Grimalkin said, didn’t she? This opponent is different. He is an assassin, a trained killer, an expert with his chosen weapons. The haizda mage mostly relied on his magic, not his blades. The Starblade defended you against that, and you proved to be better in combat. But this is different. I don’t see how you can win this time.”
“You’d be surprised,” I replied. “I’ve been taught by Grimalkin before. Not only has she exceptional skill with weapons, she also has a gift for passing on those skills to others. She’s been analyzing the way the Shaiksa fights and finding weaknesses that I should be able to exploit.”
But my words sounded hollow, even to my own ears. Somehow Jenny’s doubts were more than canceling out Grimalkin’s confidence. I felt very uneasy.
“Even if you somehow manage to win,” Jenny went on, “we’ll have to head north with this ragtag army, deep into a territory controlled by thousands upon thousands of the beasts. I find it hard to believe that we’ll survive. It seems to be getting colder by the day; even if we do somehow escape being massacred, winter will have set in, and we’ll be forced to spend long dark months in this inhospitable northern land.”
A New Darkness Page 18
