The Dusk Watchman: Book Five of The Twilight Reign (16 page)

He beckoned for Amber to join them and the big man trudged forward without comment. Nai watched as Ardela waited for Amber to reach them first, sized up the soldier and then turned her back on him just as he came within arm’s reach. Ardela was particularly muscular for a Farlan woman, but she was still the better part of a foot shorter than the heavily built soldier. For his part Amber didn’t appear to have noticed anything.

Soon they were settled around the small fire, with Nai watching Ardela and Ardela scrutinising Amber, who stared blankly into the flames, snapping out of it only when Nai shoved a chunk of bread into his hands. The big soldier grunted and tore at it with his teeth, not even bothering to pull out his waterskin to soften it, as most people would do.

‘So the heavily armed soldier is a prisoner,’ Ardela commented, ignoring Nai’s wince.

Amber grunted, but that was more confirmation of their circumstances than Nai had seen from the man thus far.

‘You wearing a dead man’s bag round your neck, or some other sort of enchantment to stop him slitting your throat?’

Nai nodded as Amber swallowed down the rest of his bread.

‘Maybe I’m just waiting,’ Amber announced abruptly, his Menin accent making the Farlan words sound thick and heavy. ‘Maybe there’s someone else I want to kill more.’

To Nai’s surprise Ardela agreed. ‘I can see why you would. You won’t find me standing in your way, but others will.’

He turned to face Ardela. ‘I’ve got nothing else,’ he said, and Nai caught a glimpse of kinship on her face.

‘Legana’s got a few things to say on that subject,’ she said. ‘Go and speak to her first. Necromancer, the first watch’s yours.’ She pulled her cloak over her and settled down, her head on her pack, to sleep.

Isak eased his head up off the bed and tried to look around. There was pain, but it felt distant, as though he were feeling someone else’s injuries rather than his own. The room beyond the carved bedposts was dim and blurry. For a while he could make out nothing more than he was alone, then a faint huff of breath from somewhere over the edge of the bed reassured him of Hulf’s presence. A chill settled on his skin, a memory of his dreams that had again been of the lakeside in Llehden.

But now it’s someone else’s dream
, he thought, too tired for relief or satisfaction at the notion.
I’ve cursed another with my nightmare. He’s the one who wakes up in the cold house beside the lake now, unable to remember who he is.

He tugged away the blankets wrapped tightly across his chest. Even now the fingers of his right hand looked strange, as if they belonged to another man; these awkward, uneven hands weren’t his; they were just what he had to put up with now. There were stubby ridges where his fingernails had been torn out in Ghenna. They were growing back, but who knew if they would eventually hide the runes carved into the skin underneath? Isak hoped the daemon-script and incantations might yet be put to service: he felt their presence constantly, a warm, insidious tug on his soul that was for ever urging it away from the mortal shell he inhabited.

On the far wall a door opened. Isak’s hand quested unbidden across the wide bed and closed around the grip of Eolis. He blinked hard to try and clear his eyes, but he succeeded only in sparking a wave of dizziness and nausea that forced his head back down onto the pillow.

‘Awake at last,’ Mihn said, appearing at his bedside. He placed a hand on Isak’s chest to stop him trying to rise. ‘How is your arm?’

While Isak screwed his face up in thought, Hulf jerked awake and pounced on Mihn, driving him in his enthusiastic greeting. Eventually Mihn managed to work his way around the powerful dog, tugging his sleeve from Hulf’s teeth with a chiding tap on the nose.

The white-eye raised his arm and saw Mihn lean back from Eolis’ lethal edge, then realised he meant his other hand. With Mihn’s help he freed himself from the blanket and as he raised it he realised where the greater part of the pain in his body was coming from.

‘It hurts,’ he mumbled, looking at the clean white bandage that covered his entire forearm, elbow to thumb. In the weak light it blended neatly with the lightning-bleached skin of the rest of his arm.

Mihn smiled. ‘It would. You really are a bloody fool sometimes.’

He took Isak’s hand to support the arm and gently removed the pin holding the bandage tight. After carefully unwrapping it part-way, he inspected the skin of Isak’s wrist, then continued to expose the greater part of the wound. Isak caught a glimpse of red, blistered lines and blackened skin, then the memory rushed back hard enough to make him moan with pain.

‘Cauterising your own wounds, having let a daemon-hound chew on your arm?’ Mihn said with a disbelieving shake of the head. ‘So at least some of the madman I knew remains.’

Hulf, determined not to be left out of proceedings, hopped up onto the bed and clambered across Isak’s legs until he reached the far side. Isak twitched, and watched Hulf’s forward-flopped ears prick up. The dog had patches of pure white on his belly and running down the inside of each leg since the ritual: hidden under the thick fur were the same tattoos the Brotherhood and the Ghosts now sported. The dog was completely unperturbed by the magic bound to his skin; he was adapting already, using his new skills to hunt in the forest, and gleefully stealing from soldiers’s tents.

He moved his foot under the blanket again and Hulf pounced, slamming his front paws together, then wrapping his jaws around the prominent hump that was Isak’s blanket covered toes.

Isak smiled weakly. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’

Now Mihn laughed out loud. ‘It always does, my friend, no matter how many times we tell you to leave the thinking to the rest of us. At least you heal quickly – all you white-eyes do. Daken is demanding to be helped to the nearest whorehouse to check everything still works, and he was as near as dead after the attack.’

‘Couldn’t the whores go to him?’

‘One would think,’ Mihn agreed. ‘Perhaps it is a matter of pride for the man? Or pethaps he just has not thought of that yet.’

Isak focused on Mihn’s face: there was something different about it. Eventually he realised there was a long, shallow cut down the side of Mihn’s head. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen Mihn actually injured, but could not think of a single instance. ‘One got you,’ he said at last, pointing as best he could.

‘The dangers of your company, my Lord.’

‘Don’t remember seeing that ever, you catching more than a bruise.’

‘You have not been present for most of my fights,’ Mihn said. ‘This is far from my first injury.’

‘Less than your fair share, though. They must have been desperate for revenge if one got that close.’

‘You flatter me.’ Mihn said with a smile.

Isak sat in silence for a while, then raised Eolis again. ‘Take it. They’ll come again.’

‘No. You killed your jailer, the one who had my scent and carried my bond.’

‘Please.’ Isak sighed and closed his eyes. ‘I’m so tired – tired of this all. I don’t have the strength to carry Eolis any longer. But you, you’re worthy of it. They’ll not get so close again, not if you were wielding Eolis.’

‘I want that burden even less than you,’ Mihn said gently, pushing Isak’s hand away, ‘and I shall not break my vow again. Whatever claim you have on my soul, you cannot order me to do that. There are others more worthy than me, soldiers who will see it more properly used.’

‘Who? It’s tied to my soul – who else could I trust with it?’

‘Vesna, Lahk – there are many here you can trust, and now there are hundreds who wear my tattoos and are just as bound to you as I am.’

Isak felt sadness wash over him. ‘No, none are as bound as you,’ he said, feeling tears of shame threatening in his eyes. ‘None whose soul I’ll spend again and again.’

‘Enough of that,’ Mihn said firmly. ‘I never wanted to go down in history, but if that is the price of success I will pay it gladly.’

‘You will pay it, Grave Thief,’ Isak muttered, ‘and for that I’m sorry.’

‘Isak, enough! Your share is more than any man or woman should ever have to bear. There are no apologies to make, all right? Now, can you get up? King Emin is leaving soon.’

Isak nodded and sat up on the bed, wincing. ‘Where’s he going?’

‘South; there is one Menin army undefeated on Narkang lands. His intelligence says they have occupied a town and are holding position – they have no plan, but they are showing no interest in surrender, and none of the local forces are strong enough to dislodge ten thousand Menin veterans.’

‘While we go north,’ Isak commented, easing his bare toes onto the rug below his bed. He was in Moorview Castle’s royal suite, a grand bedchamber reserved for the king, but Emin had insisted Isak take the room. There was a second smaller bed for Mihn in the far corner, and an enormous wardrobe covering most of the right-hand wall, but all Isak cared about was the enormous oak bed that looked as if it had been built for a white-eye of his size and weight.

As soon as his feet were on the ground Hulf jumped to the ground and gave each foot a cursory lick before darting towards the door.

‘I’ll dress myself,’ Isak said, watching the dog. ‘Go and let him out before he ruins any more of this rug.’ He pointed to a tasselled corner that was now well chewed.

Mihn encouraged Hulf out after him and left Isak in peace. The white-eye dressed slowly, wincing as he slipped on his tunic. He was fumbling ineffectively at his boots when Mihn returned to help.

Once dressed he belted Eolis around his waist, alongside the leather bag containing the Skull of Ruling, and headed out into the bustle of the main part of the castle. Isak was forced to acknowledge two dozen salutes and bows, from men of the Kingsguard and Brotherhood for the main, before he reached the half-moon-shaped hall where the king was directing proceedings.

‘Isak,’ King Emin called, coming to greet the stooped white-eye with a warm smile. ‘Your powers of recovery never cease to amaze me. It’s good to see you upright, my friend – although I will suggest you don’t cauterise your own wounds in future.’

The king was dressed for travel in uncertain times, but unsurprisingly, his green-and gold brigandine was covered with the finest, most intricate stitching that portrayed branches of oak leaves with beehives hanging from them, as well as his usual bee device.

Isak took the king’s arm and muttered his thanks as he looked around the assembled company. Doranei and Veil were in their king’s lee as usual, while Legana and the witch of Llehden were presiding over a group of ten or so people sitting at a long table that occupied one half of the room. Vesna, Lahk and Tiniq were among them.

But Isak barely noticed these details. There was one figure, standing just inside the doorway, who instantly dominated his attention, and if he had looked around at the other faces in the room it would have been clear he wasn’t alone there.

Hulf stood out on the terrace at a wary distance, his ears flat against his head as he edged forward, torn between keeping away and running to Isak’s side.

‘Just as well not all men stare so. Someone might get jealous.’

Isak took a step forward, and Hulf darted past the newcomer, determinedly placing himself in front of Isak, but so close to his feet the white-eye had to stop dead.

‘Your puppy’s better trained than mine,’ Isak said at last, one eye on Doranei. The grim King’s Man hadn’t moved. He kept his arms folded, making the point that he was at his king’s command here.

‘Yet they share the same adorable eyes,’ Zhia said with a smile that showed her small, bright teeth. ‘I’ve discovered mine is not averse to having his tummy tickled either. Is that how you got the tattoos on him? I’m glad to see reports of your untimely death have proved inaccurate – in the long run at least.’ Sapphire eyes flashed darkly in the shadow of the dark grey shawl she wore pulled right over her head to protect her skin from the dull morning light outside, but there was a drawn look to her face that even Isak could see. She had on a strange combination of clothes: long strips of cloth decorated with small blue flowers that combined to form a long skirt but would not restrict movement if she needed to fight, over a more functional pair of trousers and long boots. She wore a plain fitted jacket, with blue silk gloves that extended from elbow to fingertip and mirrored the pattern on her skirt.

‘You’re hurt,’ Isak said at last, finding he had no response to her comment.

Zhia inclined her head. ‘Fortunately I heal even quicker than you do, and there are a still a few meals wandering lost on the moor.’

‘Zhia and her brother attempted to stop the battle before it began,’ Emin explained, watching Isak’s reaction carefully. ‘My mages sensed something violent was taking place within the Menin lines. Now we have an explanation for what that was.’

‘You will, of course, note the slight scepticism in the king’s voice,’ Zhia said. As she shifted the weight on her feet slightly Isak could see the discomfort it caused her. The vampire drew her right arm closer in to her body. She wore her long handled sword on her belt, but she didn’t look like she was in much condition to draw it. ‘I had forgotten what a suspicious man he is; even with my brother’s Crystal Skull in his possession, he wonders. However, here I am at your mercy, ready to scratch Doranei behind the ears and help you in your endeavours.’

‘Help?’

She inclined her head. ‘You managed to defeat a man created to be peerless, one who twice cut my brother down in single combat. If that does not indicate you are capable of ending this all, I don’t know what does. King Emin remains cautious, but he understands my argument.’

‘You will forgive me a few misgivings,’ Emin interjected, ‘when you have spent this long
not
helping our cause, whether or not you’ve hindered it.’

‘And they are forgiven,’ she replied with a sudden, dazzling smile that Isak felt like the heat of a fire on his skin. From their reactions, Doranei and Emin did too: the king drew back slightly while his agent had to fight to avoid taking a step towards her. ‘All the same, here I am at your disposal and, I suspect, still likely to be useful.’