The Fathomless Fire (22 page)

“He’s on his way,” Rowen said.

“This woman says she knows you and your grandfather,” the captain said doubtfully, as Freya hurried to Rowen.

“Freya,” said Rowen excitedly. “Grandfather will be so happy to see you.”

“Not when he’s heard my news,” Freya said. She had broken into a beaming smile when she first saw Rowen, but now she was frowning as if troubled. “Something happened in Skald that Father Nicholas must know about. But the captain won’t let us into the city. You can tell him who we are, Rowen.”

Rowen turned to Thorne, who seemed to be waiting for her to speak. She remembered how, on her journey with Will, they had unwillingly taken refuge from their pursuers in the fortress-city of Skald, whose folk were said to be untrustworthy and warlike. But they had found the people of Skald to be kind, generous and brave, especially Freya and her family. And Freya had come with them on the rest of their journey and had shared all of their hardships and dangers.

“Freya Ragnarsdaughter is a friend,” Rowen said, speaking as loudly as she could to keep the trembling out of her voice. “These are good, honest folk. You should trust them and let them in.”

“Thank you,” Thorne said to her in an acid tone. “We’ll be sure to consult you on all such matters from now on.”

There were low chuckles from some of his men. Freya stepped forward.

“Master Nicholas said that Skald and Fable should become friends and allies,” Freya said to the captain in a louder voice. “We’re here in the hope of beginning that friendship.”

The captain smiled coldly.

“It takes twenty-four or-five warriors armed to the teeth to deliver a gesture of friendship?”

“I would have come alone, but my father insisted I travel with others. The roads between here and Skald are dangerous.”

“True enough. All manner of suspicious characters travel them these days, usually in armed gangs. If you have a message for the loremaster, you may give it to me and I’ll see that he gets it.”

“There’s no need for that,” a voice said, and Rowen turned gladly to see her grandfather making his way through the crowd that had gathered to see what kind of trouble was happening at the gates. Rowen smiled at her grandfather, but to her dismay he gave her only a quick, frowning glance. Once again she had disobeyed his orders.

“The people of Skald are no threat to us, Captain,” Pendrake said. “I can assure you these men and women have come only on a friendly errand, and after such a long journey they deserve our hospitality.”

“You know I must take the proper precautions, Master Pendrake,” said Thorne archly. “My orders come from the Marshal.”

“I will personally vouch for Freya Ragnarsdaughter and her companions,” Pendrake said. “While they are in Fable they will be my responsibility.”

Thorne frowned and looked out over the assembled Skaldings.

“We will give you food and lodging,” he announced, “but only on the condition that you surrender your weapons right here and now. Otherwise no Skalding will pass through these gates. As for those Nightbane they brought with them, they will not be setting foot in this city.”

The Skaldings parted and in their midst were revealed two alarming-looking manlike creatures with bloated faces resembling those of pigs. Their wrists were bound together with thick rope and another rope was tied between them. They were dressed in the tattered remnants of fancy velvet coats, and filthy white wigs were perched, askew, on their great heads. Their beady eyes darted furtive glances all around, and the fatter of the two began to blubber as if he might burst into tears at any moment. The other, who had a scarred, leaner face, gave him a vicious jab with his elbow.

“These are the Marrowbone brothers, dangerous and bloodthirsty fugitives,” Freya said, and Rowen gazed at them with great interest. They were hogmen, a stupid, vicious breed of troll that ate people. The brothers had caught Will in the sewers of Skald with the intention of putting him in a stew. But Will had outwitted them by claiming he was Sir William of the Seven Mighty Companions, a famous hero who had come to challenge them, and while they’d argued over who should accept his challenge, he’d managed to escape.

She caught the rank smell of sweat and fear from the hogmen, and it repelled her, but she couldn’t stop looking at them. The scarred one noticed her staring. From what Will had told her about them, she guessed this one had to be Flitch. He gave her a glare filled with hate and she looked away.

Freya quickly described the crimes for which the hogmen had been loathed and feared by the people of Skald.

“After Master Pendrake ended the plague of the werefire in Skald,” she continued, “we went hunting for the nightcrawlers that had infested our city. These two managed to slip away. Then, on our way here to your country, we passed through the Witchwood, and in the deepest part of the forest we found a tumbled-down old cottage made of gingerbread and sweets. These two were living there, in hiding. Probably hoping to lure lost children…”

She broke off and spat at the feet of the hogmen.

“That is utterly preposterous,” growled Flitch. “We’ve never been anywhere near the city of Scorch or whatever you call it.”

“Skald,” murmured the other, fatter hogman, Hodge. His brother glared at him.

“I met you two, in the sewers under the keep,” Freya said, “and I never forget a stench.”

Flitch made a puffing sound of disdain.

“You’ve clearly been clubbed over the head one too many times, girl. My brother and I are honest entrepreneurs, bakers and confectioners who have lately experienced hard times. We found that gingerbread house untenanted and thought it would be perfect for setting up shop to ply our trade. We are legitimate purveyors of sweets and cakes, I assure you. It was nothing less than kidnapping to drag us away from our livelihood.”

“Selling sweets in the middle of a trackless forest,” Freya shot back. “How’s business been?”

“I know about them, too, Captain Thorne,” Rowen said. “I was in Skald with Freya when the hogmen captured my friend Will.”

Both Thorne and the Marrowbone brothers stared at her.

“You saw them there?” Thorne asked.

“I didn’t see them, no, but my friend told me about the hogmen after he was rescued.” She stepped closer to the brothers. “And these two fit what he told me.”

“That’s no proof,” Flitch sneered. “It’s hearsay. This girl is a friend of our captor. She’ll say whatever she thinks will help the Skald woman.”

Despite the smell and the hideousness of the hogmen, Rowen again found herself drawn to them. Hodge was still white-faced and trembling with fear, and she almost reached out a hand to touch him. Then she understood what was happening. It was her gift, the
sight
. There was a powerful current of Story around these two frightening creatures, and as she realized this, their story came welling up in her mind.

She saw them as they had been a long time ago. Small, shivering, almost helpless creatures. There were three of them then: she saw a third brother, the eldest. They had left their home in a muddy sty… No, their mother
drove
them out to fend for themselves. The elder brother was brave and resourceful, he’d led them through the harsh world, kept them safe.
Tuck.
His name was Tuck. Rowen saw the brothers tramping along the roads, saw them shivering under a haystack in the rain. And then a beast had caught their scent: a wolf. A cold-blooded monster with slavering jaws, nothing like Shade. A creature poisoned and misshaped by the malice of the Night King. They had tried to take shelter in a crude hut of sticks, but the wolf got in easily and killed the oldest brother –
tore him to pieces
– and the other two had fled, always pursued, always in fear.

And then she saw that when they hid themselves in the sewers of Skald, the werefire had changed them, twisted them. Turned them into these foul, hateful creatures, these hogmen. Their story was not meant to turn out like this. It was supposed to end happily, but it had fallen into darkness and horror. Whatever terrible things they had done, the brothers had not always been like this.

Rowen saw all of this in an instant. She
felt
it, as if she had been there when their brother had been torn apart by the wolf. She could not stop it from sweeping over her, and the fear and horror left her shaking.

Before she knew what she was doing she reached out a hand and touched Hodge’s sleeve. The hogman gaped down at her in stunned disbelief.

“I’m sorry about your other brother,” she said. “And the werefire. But it doesn’t have to be this way. You can stop hating, and killing. You can change. If you did, you could be happy again.”

Hodge stared at her as if in a daze. His mouth moved but no sound came out.

“
Rowen
,” Freya said in alarm, and the spell was broken. Hodge looked fearfully to his brother and Rowen stepped away, dazed, and shocked by what she had done.

“What do these accusations matter anyway?” Flitch said to Thorne. “We have no interest in entering your city, and clearly you do not want us here, which I assure you we don’t take offence at. So in the circumstances letting us go would be in everyone’s best interests.”

“Indeed it would, sir,” Hodge added. “Fable’s no place for the likes of us. No more than Skald was.”

“
Idiot
,” Flitch hissed at his brother.

“We can’t let these two wander off on their own,” the loremaster said. “I have no doubt Freya Ragnarsdaughter is telling the truth about who they are and what they’ve done.”

“Well,” the captain said, eyeing the hogmen with a grimace of distaste, “it seems the testimonies all agree, doesn’t it?”

“If we let them go they’ll most likely prey on other innocent folk,” Pendrake said. “But the people of Skald, who did us all a good turn by capturing these two, are no threat to Fable. Captain, these men and women have come a long way to offer a hand in friendship and they deserve our hospitality.”

Captain Thorne appeared to be weighing what the loremaster had said, and then he nodded slowly, though the look he gave Pendrake was anything but agreeable.

“Very well then,” he said. “Lieutenant, take the hogmen into custody. I will speak to the Marshal about all of this. And the Skaldings may enter, but let’s just be clear that you will be held accountable for their conduct, Master Pendrake.” He turned to Freya. “And as I said, your weapons…”

Freya nodded reluctantly.

“We’ll surrender them,” she said, “though if there is need of them, I hope we’ll find them in close reach.”

Thorne studied Freya for a long moment, and smiled tersely.

“Should there be need of them, yes,” he finally said.

Though there was some grumbling, the Skaldings handed over their swords, axes and bows to Thorne’s men, who took them into the gatehouse.

Before he rode off with his men with the Marrowbone brothers in tow, the captain turned once more to Pendrake.

“One of my company, Gared Bamble, is still missing. I was hoping you might be of some help with that, Master Pendrake.”

“I’m doing all that I can,” Rowen’s grandfather said.

“Yes, I believe you are,” the captain said icily. “Which reminds me, there’s a much-respected mage in town at the moment who has offered us his services in solving this mystery. Ammon Brax, of the school at Kyning Rore. I’m sure you’ve heard of him, Master Pendrake. We’re hoping he’ll have better success.”

The captain wheeled his mount and rode slowly back through the gates with his riders, the Marrowbone brothers in their midst, still bound together. Hodge glanced for a moment at Rowen with a stunned look still on his face.

“How can he talk to you like that, Grandfather?” Rowen said angrily. “After all you’ve done for the Bourne.”

“The captain and I have never seen eye to eye,” Pendrake said. “I was the one who put Finn Madoc forward for apprenticeship in the Errantry. Thorne was not happy about that. He hasn’t forgotten it was Finn’s brother who killed his apprentice, Lord Caliburn’s son. And the story of the golem in the bog, and Finn’s ring, has reached him and Lord Caliburn. The possibility that Corr Madoc might be out there somewhere, still alive and unpunished, has stoked an old bitterness. One that Thorne is sure to keep burning in Caliburn if he can.”

“But that’s not your fault.”

“No, but I’m sure that in the captain’s mind the fact that Corr remains at large is another of my failures as a loremaster.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Freya said. “Don’t they know how you saved Skald?”

Pendrake smiled.

“What matters to them is whether I can save Fable,” he said. “With the Marrowbone brothers here now, it might seem that we’ve come one step closer to the disaster that befell your city.”

“I wonder how the hogmen would feel if they knew Sir William of the Seven Mighty Companions was just in Fable,” Rowen said, trying to shrug off her dark mood.

Freya laughed.

“I’d forgotten about that tale Will told them. We’ll have to make sure they find out.”

The Skaldings followed Pendrake and Rowen up the street, escorted by six silent guards on horseback. They were led to a barracks near the wall, that housed soldiers and held provisions during sieges. The barracks was empty at the moment, and the leader of the guards, a woman named Brigid, told the Skaldings that they could stay there for the time being. While the guards waited outside, Pendrake ushered the Skaldings inside. It was a row of low-ceilinged rooms furnished sparsely with narrow bunks, washstands and benches. There was straw on the floor and quite a few cobwebs on the walls.

“You must come and stay with us, Freya,” Rowen said. “We have lots of room. We’ve got so much to talk about.”

“You’re very kind,” Freya said, “but when I’ve given Father Nicholas the news I bring, I must stay with my people.”

Pendrake embraced Freya and held her at arm’s length to look at her.

“It is very good to see you again, my dear. Come with us at least for now. You can give us your news at the toyshop, where we can talk freely.”

Freya looked around at the other Skaldings, who were busy unloading their gear and exploring their new quarters.