Wintercraft: Legacy (4 page)

‘Climb up,’ ordered Silas. Edgar took a deep breath and accepted Silas’ hand, hooking his foot into the stirrup and letting Silas lift him easily up behind him. The horse’s coat was sleek and well groomed; it would not take much for Edgar to fall. He clung on to Silas’ coat for his life as the horse turned away from the cliffs.

Silas knew that coast well: every watchtower, every trail. He directed the horse across a wild expanse of tangled land, far from any path the Blackwatch might have taken. Dalliah believed she had stepped on to Albion soil unseen, but Silas would not let the rest of her plan unfold so easily. He already knew his targets’ destination. He intended to reach the graveyard city first.

On that freezing morning, two very different journeys began to cross Albion’s wild counties. Silas and Edgar rode their horse across barren fields heading directly west, while Kate’s group behaved exactly as Silas had predicted, following the trail a short distance north before curling in towards the dense forests that were scattered across Albion’s eastern lands.

Kate was riding a brown horse led by a Blackwatch officer riding in front. Another officer rode to her right, with a third behind her and Dalliah completing the formation to her left. The Blackwatch had arrived disguised in black robes like those worn by Albion’s wardens, ensuring that no one would dare to challenge them on the road. Kate had been given a robe of her own and she pulled it tightly around her as the hail shifted into relentless rain that stung her cheeks and blew into her eyes. No one saw
the shadow of a crow flying steadily above the treetops directly overhead.

They rode on through the afternoon and early evening, until darkness pulled in like a heavy cloth, blanketing the wild counties in a coverlet of moonlight and stars. Trees glimmered in the cold. The horses’ breath steamed in pale gusts of white, and the rain that had fallen turned slowly into ice, leaving fingers of glassy icicles clinging to the trees. Kate shivered beneath her robes. Her lips were pale and her fingers gripped the reins without her even trying, as if the cold had frozen them into place.

Dalliah did not feel the cold. Her body did not need the ordinary comforts that burdened other human lives. She could have ridden easily for days without rest, but the girl, she remembered, was not as resilient. The horses tired, lowering their heavy heads as they walked, and in the distance faint lights sparked as a settlement came into sight.

‘We should set up camp for the night,’ said one of the officers. ‘The horses need to rest.’

‘You and your men can sleep in whatever muddy ditch you wish,’ said Dalliah. ‘The girl and I will spend the night in the closest approximation we have to civilisation.’ She pointed to the lights. ‘There. I have no intention of scrabbling about in the dirt.’

The Blackwatch might not have agreed with Dalliah’s decision, but they had orders to act upon it.

‘One of us will camp with the horses,’ said the lead officer. ‘The others shall accompany you.’

‘Discreetly,’ added Dalliah.

‘Of course.’

Dalliah and Kate dismounted and walked towards a rough fence encircling what looked like a small trading village. A few silver coins bought them entry past the guard on the gate and the eyes of the few people still out in the cold fell immediately upon their visitors. Dalliah was not the kind of woman to pass unnoticed. Her presence alone made people uncomfortable. No one stayed near her for long.

The only stone building in the settlement was an inn with a red rose painted on a swinging sign. When Dalliah stepped inside, everyone huddled around the fire fell quiet. She paid for a room and took her bag of papers from Kate.

‘Servants belong downstairs,’ she said. ‘We will leave at sunrise.’

‘I’m not your servant.’ Kate’s voice was loud enough to be heard by most of the people in the room.

Dalliah took hold of Kate’s arm in a way that could have looked gentle to the onlookers, but her fingers wrapped around Kate’s wrist and twisted hard, just enough to crick the bone and hold her attention. ‘You will do as I say or you will spend the night in the gutter.’ She spoke through a well-practised smile, but her eyes were filled with a venom that Kate had not noticed before. ‘Sit down and do not talk to anyone,’ she continued. ‘You will stay silent. Do you understand?’

When Dalliah took her hand away, a bruise blossomed around Kate’s wrist. ‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Remain here. If you wander, you will regret letting me
down.’ Dalliah turned to the innkeeper, who was staring at her warily, in case she turned her anger upon him next. ‘This girl is to be left alone,’ she said. ‘When I return, she will be waiting for me, unharmed and untouched. You will watch her.’ She scattered a handful of silver on the counter and the innkeeper’s eyes widened when he spotted three glimmers of gold among them.

‘Y-yes, ma’am.’

‘Good.’

Dalliah climbed the steps to the upper floor without looking back and the man scooped up the coins at once, hiding the gold pieces in his palm before the people round the fire could spot them. He smiled at Kate, recognising her as a route to quick money. She turned away from him, looking for a seat well away from everyone else, and found one with its back to a corner of the room.

The inn was draughty, but infinitely more comfortable than hours spent sitting on a horse’s back. A small fire was burning steadily in the grate, and when the flames threatened to burn too low an old woman knelt down to tend it. The flames dulled a little as they caught on the leathery edges of what had once been books, now torn apart and good only for kindling. The old woman pushed the books in one by one, and the sight of the flames chewing around the edges of the papers stirred an uncomfortable feeling within Kate. Something twitched in her memory. The smell of burning paper . . . kneeling in a small space . . . someone beside her, whispering in the dark.

‘Been travelling far?’ Kate had not noticed the innkeeper walking up beside her, carrying a tray with a mug
and slices of buttered bread. ‘You look as if you could do with this.’ He put the tray down in front of her and refused to be discouraged when she did not speak. ‘We’ve had a few like you in here. Travelled in from Fume, I suppose. It’s not a place many people want to be right now.’

Kate looked up. She wanted to ask questions, but knew that for the right coin this man would tell Dalliah everything about their conversation, so she stayed quiet instead.

‘Eat up, then,’ he said. ‘I won’t tell her upstairs.’

Kate was too far from the fire to feel much more than gentle warmth, but it was enough. The herby drink warmed her from the inside and the food settled her stomach while the people around her talked amongst themselves, chattering about their lives and speculating about the ‘servant girl’ and her mistress. They were so engrossed in this new subject that no one looked twice when one of the Blackwatch officers entered the inn. He had removed his warden’s robe and now looked just like any other traveller. He mingled perfectly with the villagers, laughing with them and even accepting an offer of a drink before he took a seat in the corner furthest from Kate. She tried to ignore him, and turned instead to the company of the book hidden secretly beneath her coat. People glanced over at her whenever they thought she wasn’t looking, but the innkeeper made sure that she was left alone.

Kate opened the book to a page near the back and a black feather slid out from its place tucked against the spine. The feather was old and tattered. The place it had marked held details of a Skilled technique that could bind
a dying soul to that of a living person in order to prolong their life, but what had begun as an attempt to save the life of a dying subject had become something far more sinister. Different writers had added to the book over the years, and those who had worked on that technique reported that it did not just prolong a life; it prevented the one woman who had been experimented upon from ever knowing the peace of true death.

Dalliah was that woman, still living, centuries on, but her story was not what had drawn Kate to that particular part of the book. She had the feeling that there was something more there – something important that she had not seen – but no matter how many times she read that section, her broken memories would not tell her what it was.

Kate remained alone at her table, sometimes reading, sometimes sleeping in her chair, until a loud thud woke her. Something had hit the window next to the inn’s main door.

‘Was that a bird?’ A woman’s voice rose from a chair next to the fire, where she had been sleeping with a baby in her arms. ‘Are there more out there?’

Two men scratched their chairs back and looked out of the windows.

‘Can’t see nothin’,’ said one of them.

‘Where there’s birds, there’s wardens,’ said the other. ‘I’m not lettin’ them take me!’ He pulled the bolts across the inn door and backed away from it as if death itself was waiting for him on the other side.

The innkeeper threw a spoon at the man’s back, making him jump wildly. ‘Stop scaremongerin’! No warden has
ever put a booted toe across that threshold, so don’t you be frightenin’ people off with your talk. Hear me?’

The woman rested her baby in a cloth sling across her chest and went to look for herself. ‘I was in Harrop when they harvested it last,’ she said. ‘Some of us got out over the walls, lots of us didn’t. The wardens took half the town away that day. None came back.’

‘We all have stories,’ said the innkeeper. ‘There’s a right time to tell ’em, and this isn’t it.’

Kate and the Blackwatch officer kept quiet as everyone gradually agreed that the noise was nothing to worry about and they all settled cautiously back to their business. The innkeeper walked round to unbolt the door and, despite his assurances, opened it just wide enough to take a wary look outside. His hand was shaking, and his fingers rested on the bolt as he hesitated, in two minds over whether to lock it or not. The view of the street reassured him, but – just before the door swung shut – Kate was sure she saw something he had missed. Someone standing out there in the dark.

‘Nothing to worry about, miss,’ said the innkeeper, returning to his counter. ‘You’re safe as houses here.’

Kate was not ready to take his word on that. She carried her book to the window and slid a lit candle to one side so she could look out. The moment she was close enough to see through the dimpled glass, something moved behind it. A crow was sitting on the windowsill. It perched there for a few seconds, its black eyes turned her way, and then took flight, swooping over to land on the shoulder of someone waiting in the rain.

A man was out there, standing on the other side of the muddy road. His eyes shone white in the moonlight as he stepped out of the shadows. The black feather was still in Kate’s hand and she turned it between her fingers, remembering something small, yet significant. ‘Silas,’ she whispered.

Silas watched Kate carefully. Everything depended upon keeping her attention. He knew how strong her link with the veil had become. If he could use that link and remind her, just for a moment, of the memories she had lost, he could see how deeply Dalliah’s influence had spread.

The crow settled on a wall behind him, its work done, while Edgar kept watch over one of Dalliah’s guards a short distance away. Silas did not know if what he was attempting would work, but he had to find out what he was dealing with. If her mind could be saved, that was reason enough to spare her life. If not, he could end Dalliah’s plan there and then with the edge of his blade.

The world around Silas slipped into shades of grey. The candle on the inn’s windowsill dulled to a faint blue flame and Kate’s eyes shimmered as she let the veil take hold. Silas had looked into Kate’s memories before, but this was very different. This time, she was the one who had to see the truth. He did not have to share her thoughts: he had to let her see into his.

The inn’s sign creaked gently in the wind, each swing becoming slower and slower until all movement stopped. The inn walls dissolved into grey and he could see the souls of the people within it as soft blurs of light filtering
through the shadowy barrier of stone. Kate’s soul shone the brightest of them all. Silas’ blood chilled until it flowed like icy water through his veins. Then he sensed her. Kate’s spirit was so tightly attuned to the veil that its brightness intensified when viewed through it, like sunlight through a magnifying glass. Dalliah had recognised that strength within her. All Silas had to do was remind Kate of what she already possessed.

Kate’s consciousness blossomed in his mind like a glowing ember rising into a gentle flame. Instinct carried her through his memories. Half-remembered pieces of his past crystallised into sharp focus for brief moments before dissipating again as she searched for any sign of her old life, anything that would tell her who she was and why Silas was there.

Kate saw everything that Silas knew: every terrifying event he had caused in the past and every moment of the time they had spent together in Fume, she as his prisoner, he as her captor. She sensed the strength of purpose that had carried him into her life, and relived the moment when he had turned against the High Council to save her from the enticing pull of death. She witnessed his vicious treatment at the hands of the Blackwatch as seen through Silas’ own eyes, as well as the offer Dalliah had made to him before they had left the Continent. Dalliah’s voice spoke clearly within the memory.
We can regain our souls and be whole again. Surely that is worth the life of one young girl, Silas. Don’t you agree?