Shadowfell (38 page)

Regan raised a hand, silencing me. ‘Gods save us, man,’ he said mildly, looking at Flint, ‘couldn’t you have explained this to her?’

‘It’s best if I don’t come on with you.’ Flint’s voice was deathly quiet. ‘Now I know Neryn’s safe, there’s no reason for me to stay. I must be over Three Hags pass before the snows are too deep. I’ll head straight back.’

‘This is ridiculous!’ Tali’s dark brows were drawn into a ferocious scowl, not directed at me this time, but at Flint. ‘The two of you travel all the way from Summerfort together, and now you can hardly manage a civil word to each other. You deliver us a whole troop of Enforcers, then you want to slink off back to court without spending so much as a single night in our company. As for you,’ the glare was suddenly turned on me, ‘you demonstrate a weapon that could win the war for us, then tell us you’re not sure you want to use it. This is madness!’

‘I’d hoped we might have your company for a few nights at least, Flint,’ Regan said calmly. ‘I want your opinion on the plans we’re preparing for next spring. And I can help you with your explanation for Keldec.’

This wasn’t a leader’s order but the request of a friend. After a heavy silence, Flint said, ‘Long enough to give you an opinion, that’s all.’ His face was winter-white.

‘When did you last eat, Neryn?’ Tali asked, out of the blue.

‘Some time ago.’

‘Eat now, then,’ she said. ‘It’s a hard climb and you’ll have to keep up. Be quick about it; we’re ready to leave. You have supplies?’

I rummaged in the bag that had been returned to me, crouching to take out the cloth that held my precious sprinkling of oats, my scraps of wizened fruit, my last morsel of cheese. Regan moved away to speak to Fingal. Flint and Tali stood side by side, watching me.

I walked to the rock wall with the cloth in my hands. I knelt down to spread it flat, then divided its meagre contents into two equal portions. ‘I offer you a share of this small meal,’ I murmured. ‘I’m sorry for the violence that stained this place of peace today. I’m trying to do what is right.’ I stayed there a moment with my eyes shut, while the bustle of activity continued around me. Then I opened my eyes and ate my half of the rations, because Tali was right: without food I would be unable to keep up.

I rose to my feet. My head spun. Tali was beside me in a moment, her arm coming out to steady me. ‘Not much of a meal,’ she commented. ‘No wonder you’re skin and bone. I’m going to walk in front of you, and I want you to tell me when you need a hand. Ready to go on?’

‘I’m ready.’

Each of the dead was carried over a brawny comrade’s shoulders. Garven was borne on his litter; the other wounded fighters walked, supported by their friends. The three of us were at the back of the line, Tali first, then me, with Flint coming last. Tali offered to carry my bag for me. I said no; she already had her pack and weapons. I was glad of the apparent thaw in her mood, for this was going to be hard enough without her hostility.

A small number of rebels had stayed behind. Nobody had explained why, but as I took a last look behind me, I saw them dragging the sad remains of the crushed men over toward the piled-up bodies of those slain in battle. I wondered who would pass this way. It was a remote place, chill and inhospitable. What was it Flint had told Regan? That the Enforcers had come along this valley against his advice. That someone had told them to disregard his orders. No wonder he had looked so stricken when he came up to the cave that last night. He had realised there was no stopping them; he had been obliged to send word to Regan, setting the ambush in place. And after he left me, after I showed him my disgust, he had gone on with them, knowing he was leading them to their deaths. I had seen on his face, after the battle, that those men had been his friends. They were the companions he had trained with and fought alongside, the comrades with whom he had established a warrior’s trust. I had learned today, as I watched them fight and die, that an Enforcer was not a monster, only a man who had taken a wrong path.

Despite the difficult terrain and the need to convey the dead and wounded, the rebels maintained a brisk pace. I did my best to keep up, fixing my gaze on Tali’s back as she marched ahead of me and trying to breathe deeply. Behind me, Flint held his silence. There would be no obeying Regan’s command to settle our differences unless I made the first move.

We negotiated the area of broken ground to find ourselves on the banks of a river. It was spanned by a fragile-looking construction of twisted and knotted ropes, suspended from poles dug into the ground at either end. Beneath this bridge the water churned and tumbled, icy blue-grey under a darkening sky. The sun had shrunk behind the clouds again, and the air was still and cold. We waited while the dead and wounded were borne across; while the rebels passed over in turn. Tali crossed before me, walking backwards as steadily as if there were no river, no drop, no shaking movement with every step. When I wobbled, she took my hand to steady me. Flint waited on the near side until we were safely over, then made his own sure-footed way after us. He had, I guessed, not wanted to shake the bridge with his greater weight while we were on it.

We rested briefly on the far bank. Fingal dosed Garven again. Folk drank from their water skins; the injured rebels sat down to rest. From somewhere behind us, within the area of broken rocks, a dark plume of smoke was rising. Its smell came to us on the wind, filling our nostrils with death. The look on Flint’s face made my heart clench tight.
You have done this before
, I thought.
Over and over.
But that makes no difference. You will never be at peace with it.
I had to talk to him. I had to face what lay between us. What words could bridge such a chasm?

‘You’re wrong about him.’

I started. I had been so deep in thought that I had not seen Tali come to stand beside me.

‘My grandmother was destroyed by an Enthraller,’ I said. ‘Flint is an Enthraller. No matter what kind of hero he is, no matter how courageous or loyal to the cause he may be, if he’s one of
them
he can never be a friend to me.’

Tali glanced at me. ‘I don’t know what happened between the two of you, and I don’t want to know,’ she said quietly. ‘But you’ll need to sort this out quickly. I take it this is not just some kind of lovers’ falling-out?’

The expression on my face must have given her the answer, for she went on, ‘Did you ask him to explain what he does and why?’

‘No, I didn’t ask him. I didn’t need to.’ But that was not the full truth. Flint had tried to tell me and I had refused to listen. ‘I despise what he does,’ I said, as if that might excuse me.

‘Then you despise us and you don’t belong at Shadowfell,’ Tali said, with a terrible quietness in her voice. ‘Flint shoulders a crippling burden. He takes risks that would drive an ordinary person crazy with terror. Think twice before you speak harshly of such a man. We’ve got the key to Alban’s future at Shadowfell, the last light of freedom in a realm turned to the dark. I saw what you did today. Your gift is a weapon all right, a weapon to make or break our venture. And Flint is a weapon. He’s our link to Keldec, our eyes and ears at court. Regan needs both of you. But you won’t be welcome at Shadowfell if you can’t keep an open mind. And you won’t be a friend to the cause if you weaken the best man we have.’

She might just as well have hit me with that axe of hers. I felt stunned, winded. ‘Weaken him,’ I echoed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Just ask him,’ Tali said, shouldering her pack again. All around us, folk were getting ready to move on up the path into the hills. ‘Ask him about that thing he wears around his neck. I don’t care if the lock of hair belongs to you or his favourite dog. Flint wouldn’t meddle with a friend’s mind. Not even on the king’s orders.’

As we climbed, my gaze kept turning back toward the smoke from that fire, thick and heavy in the stillness of late afternoon. It was the colour of stone, of bone, of storm clouds. It hung like a sad shroud over this empty land. The thought of it weighed me down. Was the only way forward a path of violence and death? To fight for the cause of freedom, must I learn to perform deeds that sickened me to the core?

Up and up we climbed as the day grew darker. The narrow track wound between high bastions of stone, their chinks and crevices bare of any life. I thought of Grandmother and the wisdom she had tried to pass on to me. I thought of Farral dying, his breath the rustle of a breeze through dry reeds, his last whispered words a blaze of courage.
Keep fighting, Neryn! Keep . . . fi
. . . I thought of my father and his wager, and the chancy-boat burning. I thought of Flint’s white face and haunted eyes. There was no need to turn my head and look at him; I held his image deep within me.

Grant forgiveness
, said a little voice inside me.
Grant forgiveness, set them free.
In Odd’s Hole, facing the Master of Shadows, I had believed my tests all completed. But maybe there was one test left.

Gods, it was cold! My chest was aching, an unwelcome reminder of that lost time in the valley when I had been too sick to make sense of the world around me. I had to keep going. I could not let these brave folk down. I had to reach Shadowfell . . .

The world turned around me; I put out a hand to steady myself against the rock wall.

‘Neryn.’ Flint spoke from just behind me. ‘Please let me help you.’

He sounded hesitant and sad, as if he was quite sure I would refuse but could not stop himself from asking anyway. In that moment, something changed inside me, as if a window long-shuttered was opened to let in the light.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Just for this steep part.’

He moved forward and offered the support of his arm. We climbed on together. Above us, rock walls, dark skeletal trees, a dimming sky. Below us, far, far below, a sudden glimpse of the stony terrain that housed the place of death. The smoke still rising. The air whispering a tale of coming snow. Around Flint’s neck the dream vial hung, moving from side to side with his steady steps. Inside it, the vaporous contents performed a little slow dance. The warmth of Flint’s body flowed into mine. I felt his strength, his endurance, his courage. The revulsion that had sent me running from him only a day ago was gone. I felt safe.

‘Tell me,’ I said. ‘Tell me what you didn’t tell that morning, when I wouldn’t listen.’

I felt him take a long, uneven breath. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.

‘Just tell me. What is in the dream vial?’

‘I told you once that I was sent away to the isles to be trained, when I was quite a small boy,’ Flint said. ‘Not trained in warfare, Neryn, but in the skill I was born with, an ability to touch folk’s minds as they sleep, to soothe the suffering, to calm the disturbed, to make some sense of grief or loss. Mind-mending is an ancient craft, worked through dreams. It comes to us as your own gift does, from an ancestor who is not of humankind. There is – was – nobody else in my family with such a gift, and when it first showed itself in me at an early age, it frightened my kinfolk. Like your own ability, if not governed well it can become destructive. You have seen that at first hand.

‘At that time Keldec had not yet come to the throne, and such matters could still be discussed without fear. My parents discovered that there was a master mind-mender in the western isles, and they sent me to live with him when I was five years old, to learn the right way to use this gift. I stayed there thirteen years. I was my mentor’s only student, and he was thought to be the last of his kind. Keldec became king not long after I began my training, and while I learned my craft, he set his stamp on Alban.

‘Once trained, I had a choice. I could hide my gift and hope for times of change, or use it openly. There was only one place where I could do the latter, and that was Keldec’s court. I made myself known to him, and in time he called me there to join him.’

‘So you became an Enthraller.’ Let this tale have a conclusion I could bear to hear. ‘And an Enforcer. When did you learn to fight?’

‘I met Regan. Here at Shadowfell he does not talk about his past; nobody does. But I met him in the isles, when we were young. His family was in a position to offer me an education alongside their son. That included a warrior’s training. My mentor encouraged it. Regan and I made good rivals; we learned from each other. Not long before I went to court there was a . . . catastrophe. That story is Regan’s to tell, not mine. It made him the man he is today; it gave him a thousand reasons to do what he’s doing here at Shadowfell. And it gave me a reason to offer my services to Keldec. On the surface, a loyal warrior and occasional practitioner of magic. Beneath the surface, something quite different. The king trusts me. He accepts that I prefer to do certain things my own way.’

‘Flint,’ I made myself say, ‘doesn’t the king expect you to use your gift for his purposes? Why else would he want you at court?’

There was a silence. ‘I have done that, yes,’ he said heavily, and my heart sank. ‘He has a number of Enthrallers, none of whom has been trained as I have. Perhaps two in three times, they succeed in winning a person’s loyalty for the king while keeping the victim in his right mind. The third . . . I have no need to tell you what can happen if that particular process is applied without due care, Neryn. I will give you the truth, whole and unadorned. I have never done what was done to your grandmother; my teacher made sure I had mastery of the gift before he let me go out into the world. Once or twice I have used my ability to turn men to the king’s way of thinking. Regan and I spoke of this, long ago. To do what I do, to provide Regan with a window into the heart of Keldec’s court, I must have the king’s complete trust. That means there are certain commands I must obey. If I did not, Keldec would soon begin to doubt my loyalty. I do not perform such deeds lightly. I wear the weight of them every moment of every day. But it seems to me the cause of Alban’s freedom is more important than anything. If I began to question his orders, the king would have no choice but to destroy me. He knows how strong I am, and what my gift allows. He could never let me go. I would make too powerful an enemy.’