Grim Company 02 - Sword Of The North (49 page)

Kayne swallowed carefully. ‘You reckon it’s still after you?’

Fivebellies shook his head in despair. ‘We split up and we laid traps for it and we still couldn’t lose the fucker. It can’t be hurt. It can’t be stopped.’

Such was the horror on the man’s face that Kayne almost pitied him, right up until his very next words.

‘You’re going to lead it away from me.’

‘I ain’t in much of a condition to lead anyone a chase.’

‘Shut up!’ Fivebellies screamed, his meaty jowls quivering. It dawned on Kayne then that Fivebellies had been pushed beyond breaking point; the bandit’s mind had been cracked by whatever he’d witnessed down in those tunnels.

Fivebellies nodded at Kayne’s left hand. ‘Hold it up,’ he said. ‘Place it against the stone.’ His manic eyes not leaving Kayne, Fivebellies reached down to his belt with his free hand and drew an evil-looking machete.

Kayne’s heart sank. ‘Not bloody likely.’

Fivebellies pressed the scimitar close against his flesh and Kayne felt a warm trickle of blood run down his neck.

‘Your hand or your head, greybeard.’

Very slowly, Kayne raised his left hand and placed it palm up against the monument. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

‘I’m not stupid! First chance you get, you’ll draw that greatsword of yours. You know what? I think I’d prefer you with no hands.’

‘No hands?’ Kayne repeated, horrified. ‘You want to chop ’em both off?’

‘I’m not for taking any chances.’

Kayne’s mind whirred, searching for a way out of this predicament. For the first time since the day of the Shaman’s pyre, he felt truly powerless. He thought of Mhaira and his eyes blurred with tears. He was so close to the High Fangs, now. He didn’t fear death, hadn’t feared it for many a year, but he didn’t want to die without seeing Mhaira’s face one last time.

Without telling his son he was sorry.

Fivebellies rested the serrated edge of the machete against Kayne’s wrist. ‘This will hurt, but I’ll warn you now: you make a fuss, and I’ll do to you what I did to that dandy Glaston—’

Fivebellies gasped and something splashed into Kayne’s eyes. It was warm and wet, and it took all his willpower not to move his free hand to wipe it away. Instead he blinked wildly. When his vision cleared, he saw something sticking out of the bandit’s monstrous gut. It was an arrowhead, glistening with blood. It had struck him from behind and gone near straight through his body.

A second later Fivebellies toppled backwards and began to scream. Maybe it was Kayne’s imagination, but he fancied the earth shook a little as the man’s prodigious bulk struck the ground.

A pair of familiar faces appeared over the hill, one bald and fire-scarred and looking decidedly pissed off, the other young and freckled.

‘You came back,’ Kayne gasped.

Jerek scowled and scratched his short beard. ‘Brick said you was struggling. I’ve spent two years saving your sorry old arse. I figured what’s one more time.’

‘I told him to run,’ Kayne said, nodding at Brick. The boy was staring at Fivebellies, a strange expression on his face.

‘Kid was determined to help. Reckon he’s just about as stubborn as you.’ Jerek’s eyes narrowed on Fivebellies. ‘The
fuck
, Kayne? You got blindsided by this bag of shit?’ The Wolf gave the stricken bandit a quick boot in the ribs. Fivebellies twitched and let out a groan. ‘Arse the size of his, even your useless old eyes ought to be able to spot him a mile away.’

‘I got careless,’ Kayne replied. He’d got old and weak: that was the truth. With a tremendous effort he pushed himself to his feet. ‘Where’re the others?’

‘Waiting up ahead,’ Brick said distractedly. ‘Shall I finish him?’ The boy reached for his quiver.

There was something in Brick’s voice that Kayne hadn’t heard before and didn’t much like. There was killing and then there was killing, and while Kayne could understand the boy’s hunger for revenge, it was a line that once crossed changed a man forever. ‘I’ll do it,’ he said wearily. He was reaching over his shoulder to draw his greatsword when Jerek placed a hand on his arm, stopping him short.

‘You two go on,’ the Wolf snarled, clutching his axes and fixing Fivebellies with a look that chilled the blood. ‘I’ll catch up. Me and this prick got some debts need repaying.’

The sky was darkening by the time they found Grunt and Jana Shah Shan close to a stone marker that had somehow toppled over. It was on the verge of a steep rise that quickly fell away just beyond. Jana balanced dangerously on the edge of the upturned monument, standing on the tip of one foot with her arms spread wide and her head turned towards the moon.

‘Slowly,’ she said calmly, without moving an inch. ‘You don’t want to startle them.’

‘Startle who?’ Kayne asked. He met Grunt’s amber gaze. The big mute was sitting on the fallen stone, his elbows resting on his knees and a glum expression on his blunt face. He gave an apologetic shrug and tossed a pebble at a rock twenty feet distant. If the collection of stones scattered around his target was any kind of measure, he’d been at the game a fair while.

‘Startle who?’ Kayne repeated as he reached the marker – but as the depression beyond the rise came into view, he saw exactly what Jana referred to.

A large group of children sat huddled together on the stony ground. He counted two score, at least – all thin to the point of starving and coated in layers of grime. The poor things looked more exhausted than he was. The faces of some of the children held a haunted quality that reminded him of Fivebellies, and many drew back in fear as he crested the rise.

‘Don’t be afraid, young ones,’ called Jana, as Jerek and Brick joined Kayne on the rise. ‘These men are friends.’

Dozens of eyes stared at the three of them. Jana somersaulted from the monument, landing on her feet with the grace of a cat. A few children clapped. Most continued to watch the newcomers nervously.

‘You look familiar,’ one of the children said hesitantly. She was more a woman than a girl, in truth: blue-eyed and blonde-haired, likely the eldest. ‘You remind me of the old King.’

Kayne’s eyes narrowed. ‘Old King? My name’s Brodar Kayne. My son Magnar rules the High Fangs.’

The girl shook her head. ‘Krazka’s king now. We fled town to get away, but Krazka sent his Kingsmen after us.’

A sudden pressure weighed in Kayne’s chest, and his next words emerged as a croak. ‘What happened to Magnar?’

‘Krazka hurt him. Cut him bad.’

Kayne reeled as if he’d been punched. ‘How badly? What the fuck did that bastard do to my boy?’

The girl flinched back, suddenly afraid. ‘Krazka kept him in a wicker cage. Yllandris said he took some of his fingers, and did some worse things, but she never said what. I’m sorry, I don’t know.’

Kayne became aware of his own breath rasping inside his chest. Memories of the wicker cage flooded back to him – an endless nightmare of pain and terror that had threatened to drive him mad. Most men broke after a week inside that terrible device. Kayne had somehow survived a year. He remembered the Shaman’s words outside Dorminia.

I must return to the High Fangs. Heartstone is in grave peril.

Was that the moment Krazka had seized the capital? Seized the capital and placed his son inside a wicker cage? He felt himself shaking, and realized that his fists were bunched together.

A rough hand squeezed his shoulder and then Jerek was right there beside him, his voice softer than Kayne had ever heard it. ‘We ain’t far from the Fangs now. We’ll get him out of there, Kayne. You can count on it.’

Kayne took a deep breath. Somehow he relaxed his fists and let go of the terrible rage. ‘I’m sorry, lass,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. Why hasn’t the Shaman taken Heartstone back? I saw him return north. Him and the Brethren. There’s not a man that could keep them out.’

‘Krazka has demons with him. He made some kind of pact with one, the Herald. It fought the Shaman and chased him away. I think the Shaman’s with Carn Bloodfist’s army now, in the West Reaching, but… they say he’s dying.’

Kayne took another deep breath
.
Highlanders siding with demons. The world had changed beyond all recognition. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

‘Corinn,’ she replied timidly.

‘Well now, Corinn. Why’s Krazka sending his Kingsmen after you and the rest of these children?’

Despite her own trepidation, the girl approached Kayne and lowered her voice so that the younger children couldn’t hear her next words. ‘They want to sacrifice us to the Herald. Yllandris led us away from town. The iron man caught up with her in the Greenwild and set fire to the forest. We only just made it out.’

As Corinn came nearer, Kayne saw the bright tears in her eyes. ‘I think Yllandris is dead,’ she continued. ‘We’ve been fleeing south but our food has run out. Tiny Tom and some of the others, I think they’re starving.’ Her voice cracked as the brave mask she was wearing finally began to slip, and Kayne was overcome with sympathy. This Corinn had barely seen thirteen winters, yet if her story were true she’d guided them through a hundred miles of the roughest terrain imaginable, all the while being pursued by the most formidable warriors in the King’s Reaching.

Kayne swallowed his own anguish then, forcing it deep inside him. These children were counting on him now. ‘You’re gutsy to have come this far,’ he said gently. ‘But there’s nothing south of here for near a thousand miles.’ He didn’t mention the gholam. Nothing good would come of that. ‘Me and my friend Jerek are heading north, back to the mountains. I reckon you’ll be safe enough in the West Reaching if we can circle around. Carn Bloodfist ain’t ever been a friend of mine, but he’s fair enough with those he’s got no quarrel with.’

‘What about the iron man? And the other Kingsmen? I think they killed Yorn, too.’

Yorn.
That name brought back memories. Holding the valley against overwhelming odds. Red Rayne to his left, Taran behind him and Yorn to his right. Yorn had joined the town guard after the war. He’d been a solid sort. It was funny how the solid sorts were always the ones that died youngest.

Kayne cleared his throat. ‘Anyone wants to harm you, they’ll have to go through me and Jerek first.’

There was a growl and then Grunt joined them on the verge. ‘Him too,’ Kayne added.

‘Don’t forget about me,’ Brick piped up, trying his best to sound tough. He nodded gravely at the three men towering above him and puffed out his small chest. Then he caught Corinn staring at him and his ruddy cheeks turned a bright red.

Kayne turned. ‘Jana, you in?’

The Jade Islander looked guilty. ‘I must bring word to the Emperor of what has happened. A larger party will need to be sent. The thief must be found and the key recovered or there is no telling what the gholam may do.’

‘Women,’ Jerek rasped in disgust. ‘This is why you don’t bring ’em along. Only one thing you can count on a woman for and that’s let you down when you need ’em most.’

Jana went stiff. ‘You didn’t let me finish,’ she said coolly. ‘I’ll help you deliver these children to safety before I return east. Perhaps the thief is yet ahead of us.’

Kayne looked from Jana to Jerek. It might’ve been his imagination, but he thought he saw the ghost of a smile on the Wolf’s face.

Davarus Cole staggered from the impact of the blast but somehow managed to keep his feet on the slippery marble. On the street just ahead, the remains of the Whitecloak patrol that had been standing there a moment ago oozed over the wet flagstones. Blood and viscera bubbled gently, pooling around torn fragments of cloak and lumps of twisted metal and chunks of blackened bone.

Cole stared at Thanates, horrified. The wizard crackled with energy, filled to bursting by the prodigious quantity of magical ore he had siphoned from the silos back at the Blight. A baleful radiance shone through the scarlet rag that covered his eyes. Tiny arcs of black fire danced up and down his tattered overcoat.

‘Did you need to do that?’ Cole remonstrated as forcefully as he dared. ‘Those men probably had families.’

You set the shamblers on the Whitecloaks back in Newharvest
, a treacherous voice in his skull reminded him. That had been different though. Priam’s men had been going to kill him.

He frowned down at the steaming remains, swallowing the nausea that rose within him. In all likelihood, those men had been about to kill him too. Scarcely a year ago the world had seemed so black and white. Now every choice he made seemed to be the wrong one.

The wizard’s voice was as hard as iron. ‘It is the lesser evil. Whitecloaks are not permitted families. They are thralls, cursed to wither away their brief lives in dire servitude, their blood and seed and eventually their very essences fed upon by the White Lady’s handmaidens in order to preserve their unnatural existence. Those men are better off dead.’

Cole remembered the strange fluid leaking out of the ears of Priam and his men back at Newharvest. He remembered Thanates’ words.

The Unborn have fed well this night.

It took all his self-control to stop himself emptying his stomach on the streets, then.

Thanates turned to the large crowd gathered on the edge of the docks. Behind the crowd the ship they’d commandeered near Newharvest lurched crazily in the harbour, battered by the endless gusts of wind and the torrential rain.

‘You are Freefolk now,’ the wizard boomed. Somehow his voice carried above the storm. ‘Those of you who wish to flee are advised to seek shelter from what is to come. Those with homes may return to them.’ Thanates raised a hand and curled it slowly into a fist. When he continued, his voice had grown even louder. It seemed to thunder from him, the black fire that wreathed his body flaring angrily with every word. ‘Those of you who lost loved ones in the Blight, those of who you feel an absence in your heart you cannot explain – remember what I told you. Remember what the woman who rules this city has done. Soon your stolen memories will return. I cannot promise that you will not feel grief. I cannot guarantee that the rage you will feel will not consume you. But I offer you this: join me as I seek answers, and I promise to make the White Lady pay for each and every wrong she has done you!’