Winter Be My Shield (53 page)

‘So you had her drugged and bundled away like a load of baggage on a sled?'

Dremman shrugged. ‘It was easier this way. This betrothal isn't popular and there's enough division among the men without bringing that up for question. And given our current situation, having her arrive at Lathayan with her belly swollen wouldn't be a good idea. This way there'll be time enough to take care of things if necessary.'

‘So she doesn't know about this?'

‘Her escort will tell her what she needs to know.'

‘What about Sierra?'

Dremman put the oilstone aside and began cleaning his fingernails with the tip of the freshly honed knife. ‘What about her?'

‘Where is she?'

‘I have no idea, my boy. Perhaps she has deserted. Mages are dangerous, fickle creatures. We're better off without her.'

‘Don't treat me like a fool, Father —'

‘Then stop acting like one! The girl is gone and we're well rid of her. That little show she put on at the village came cursed close to ruining everything. The common folk have less sense than a flock of sheep. One show of light and noise and they're prepared to kneel down and worship her as a Goddess. Never once did it occur to them she could wipe them out just as easily.'

‘But we need her, sir. The Akharians —'

‘Once they've taken what they want the Akharians will leave,' Dremman said. ‘They're not cut out to live in the north and they know it. Thanks to young Balorica they'll find what they want and be gone by next spring. The Akharians are not our problem, Ardamon. It's the king's pet sorcerer we must be wary of. How long do you think it took for word of what happened at the village to reach him? How long before he knew his lost pet had found a home?'

‘But —'

‘Our little rebellion was only a game, Ardamon, thought up by Severian and Osebian to weaken our clan before the wedding. If Valeria had known about it she would never have let it happen. The king can't punish us for disobeying his orders. If he did, he knows we would lead the clans in revolt, and without us the Akharians will crush the Mesentreian lords and their men. We've got them over a barrel — and Valeria sewed the marriage contract up so tight there's no way out of it. We had them exactly where we wanted them, right up until that little sorcerer came along.

‘Suddenly it's not the king and the duke we're playing, it's Kell himself. The king wanted to control our clan, not destroy it. So long as he thought he had the chance to regain the upper hand he'd keep Kell and Rasten in check, but if we turn that madman's pet against him? He'd take Ruhavera back to the bedrock. He'd wipe out every last branch of the Wolf's bloodline. We'd be looking at a slaughter worse than the Demon's Last Stand. We had to be rid of her.'

‘But without her we are defenceless against the Akharians!'

‘Defenceless? I taught you better than that, boy! Just how much use do you think a single mage is against dozens?'

‘But she's not like them! She's not an ordinary mage — she's a Child of the Black Sun!'

‘What cursed difference does that make? She's still only one person, who can only be in one place at a time. And in the heat of a battle she's as likely to slaughter our men as she is theirs. They will either overwhelm and kill her and then slaughter us, or she'll lose her grip and save them the trouble by reducing our men to ash. In any case, we don't need her! Our strategies were invented by men who fought against mages and, while folk might have forgotten why we drove the demons out, at least we
haven't forgotten how to fight them. On an open battlefield against men in fixed positions with nowhere to retreat and no cover they would ruin us. But in a forest, taken by ambush? They're as blind and confused as any other man. By the time they gather their wits and separate friend from foe we'll already be falling back and beyond their reach. We will whittle them down until they snap, boy, and we don't need a mage to do it.'

Ardamon sat heavily on the ground at his father's feet. ‘So … If I may ask, sir, what have you done with her?'

‘The only thing we could do. We've sold her back to the king as the price of forgiving our rebellion and maintaining Mira's betrothal. We've been in contact with Lord Rasten and the men are handing her over to him tomorrow.'

‘But  … Lord Rasten? Have you lost your mind? If she's dangerous when she's on our side what manner of demon do you think she'll be when Kell has turned her into a weapon for the king?'

‘Now you're the one taking me for a fool, boy!' Dremman barked. ‘All I said was that we've sold her back. Keeping her there and keeping her alive is their problem.'

Ardamon blinked. ‘The safest way to kill a mage is with poison,' he said.

‘No, lad, best of all is to let them kill each other. From what I hear she came cursed close to finishing Rasten the last time, but she lacked the guts to try again. If that fails, then poison is the next choice. We have a man going along with them, posing as my messenger to the king. He has a supply of poison we took from that Mesentreian physician's gear —'

‘
Akharian
,' Ardamon said. ‘Rhia is Akharian, not Mesentreian.'

‘Whatever,' Dremman said. ‘My physician swears it will be enough to kill the whole cursed party.'

‘Both of them?' Ardamon said. ‘You mean to kill both Rasten and Sierra?'

‘Well, of course, boy! Bringing one sorcerer down won't do us much good. But the two of them … Kell is an old man. I doubt he has it in him to train another apprentice and he'll be tied to the king's army until the Akharians either go home or turn their own mages against them.'

Ardamon scrubbed his hands over his face. The thought of Mira being treated like a bale of goods frankly sickened him, but having her
safe in Ruhavera was surely worth it. As for Sierra, well, her fate was unfortunate but unavoidable. Power such as hers was an intolerable threat. ‘What

about Cam?'

‘What about him?'

‘What do you intend to do with him? And what do I tell him about this?'

‘Tell him nothing except to keep his mouth shut. I've given orders he is to be confined to the tent, but if he gives any trouble I'll have him put in chains as well.'

‘You don't mean to kill him, then?'

‘Kill him? Why would we do that? He's the last of Leandra's line and we might still need him to father Mira's children.'

‘The drug your men gave him has made him sick,' Ardamon said.

‘Good. It'll keep him quiet for a while.' Dremman wiped the blade of his knife down with a scrap of oily wool and slid it into the sheath. ‘Go to bed, Ardamon. In the morning we'll let it be known that our little sorcerer has deserted us. Tomorrow is likely to be a long day.'

 

Cam was sitting up and sipping tea when Ardamon returned to the tent. His face was deathly pale and his hands shook as they cupped the bowl.

Numb with weariness, Ardamon stamped the snow from his boots, stripped off his fur and hung it from a peg driven into the tent post.

‘Well?' Rhia said to him. ‘What news? Is there to be a search? They have only been gone a few hours. They might still be in the camp.'

Ardamon tried to speak but then broke off with a shake of his head. He went to the stove and poured himself a bowl of tea.

‘No search,' Cam said with a rasp. ‘Tell him what was missing from your supplies, Rhia.'

Rhia frowned as she glanced at her trunk. ‘Thessalet. I brought it with me from Mesentreia. It is a powerful drug and one that does not grow in Ricalan. It kills in hours if it is not administered correctly. An unpleasant death.'

‘No doubt your clan's physicians know that,' Cam said. ‘If the drug is identified as the one that killed them Rhia will be named as the one who supplied it. She's a foreigner after all, with no ties here and no one to be angered when she's made a scapegoat.'

Ardamon drained the bowl and slammed it down on Mira's table.

‘What have they done with Mira?' Cam said.

‘She is safely on her way to Ruhavera. She's better off behind those walls than she is here with the Slavers so close.'

‘And Sierra?'

‘She deserted in the middle of the night,' Ardamon said. ‘No doubt the witnesses are already primed and ready to tell of how she slipped past the sentries.'

‘And what have they done with her? There's no blood here. If they cut her throat while she was sleeping it was done elsewhere …'

Ardamon shook his head. ‘Not that.'

‘Then what? Where —' Cam suddenly broke off and went very still. ‘Spirit of Storm defend us and Black Sun have mercy. He was telling the truth.' Cam set the bowl down and tried to stand. His legs, however, wouldn't support his weight. He was as unsteady as a newborn foal.

Rhia grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back down to the furs. ‘Cam, sit! Or you will fall into the stove —'

‘Fires below, Rhia, let me go! When she finds out the Gods only know what she'll do! I have to catch up with them …'

‘Cam!'

‘Who?' Ardamon demanded. ‘Who was telling the truth?'

After a brief struggle Cam lost what strength he had and sat heavily on the furs, his eyes hazy and unfocussed as he swayed gently from side to side.

‘For the love of life, Cam, I swear I never heard of this before tonight,' Ardamon said. ‘My father has sold her back to Kell but he doesn't intend her to reach him. He's planning to kill her and the apprentice both. Who knew of this? Who tried to warn you?'

‘Rasten,' Cam said. ‘Rasten told her the Wolf Clan was plotting against her. She refused to believe him.' He doubled over with a choking sound. Rhia held the basin under his nose again, but Cam pushed it away though his shoulders were heaving and a harsh, grating sound came from his throat.

‘Cam!' Rhia grabbed his shoulders. ‘Cam, what is wrong?'

He was laughing. ‘Ah, my aunt, the dear departed Queen Leandra, who was murdered by a Mesentreian sorcerer … she used to say that the Gods have a sick sense of humour.'

Ardamon turned to Rhia. ‘That drug they put in the food. Does it drive people mad?'

‘Just listen, you fool!' Cam said. ‘Sierra forgave Mira, but she never trusted your clan. Rasten's been talking to her. He didn't want to risk another fight. After your father put her under guard she asked him to train her and he warned her that your clan was plotting something. When she finds out he was telling the truth …' Cam raked his hand through his hair. ‘I have to go after her.'

‘Cam, you cannot stand, let alone ride after them in the dark and the snow!' Rhia pleaded with him.

‘And Dremman has ordered you be confined to this tent,' Ardamon said. ‘What good would it do anyway? There are a dozen men with her and they won't listen to anyone but my father.'

‘The men will be dead before Rasten ever gets there,' Cam said. ‘Were they planning to keep her drugged until the hand-over?'

‘I suppose so,' Ardamon said. ‘Father didn't tell me the details.'

‘They would have to. Even the warding-stones won't hold her any more. They might find she wakes up a little earlier than they intended. You see, she wasn't that hungry when we came back to the tent. Mira and I were ravenous, but Sierra ate after her lesson. While Mira and I were stuffing ourselves, she only had half a bowl. Unless they're watching her very closely they're in for a nasty surprise. She'll wake up alone, confused and surrounded by enemies and with Rasten there ready to whisper in her ear …'

‘Surely she will not listen to him?' Rhia said, but there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.

‘I don't know what she'll do,' Cam said. ‘This is the second time the Wolf Clan has betrayed her. Why would she let you try for a third?'

‘For you,' Ardamon said. ‘She'd come back here for you.'

‘Then help me ride after her!'

Ardamon reached for his fur. ‘Rhia's right. You wouldn't make it. I'll go. I'll tell her everything.' He pulled on his coat and wrapped his sword-belt around it.

‘Ardamon!' Cam called after him as he swung open the door. ‘Don't push your horse too hard. If you get there before she wakes she'll probably kill you as well.'

Sierra only realised her world was in motion when it bumped to a stop. For a while now she had been growing steadily more aware of a pounding in her head and a foul, sickly taste in her mouth. It was only at the sudden cessation of movement that these sensations coalesced into coherent thoughts.

She was uncomfortable, lying half on her side and half on her belly, with her arm twisted awkwardly beneath her, but when she tried to move, she couldn't. Her fingers, exploring, found only rough cloth. Her hands seemed to be close together but she couldn't find the fingers of one hand with the other. Her feet could not be separated.

Blankets and furs were wrapped around her in a dense cocoon but she was chilled despite them. She lay on something hard and unyielding and as she tried to work out just what it was she felt a cord lashed across her shoulders pull tight and then come loose.

She was lying on a sled, lashed down like a piece of cargo. As the lashings were loosened the blankets over her shifted a little and then were pulled aside in a sudden blinding flash of sunlight.

‘See that?' a voice said from somewhere above her head. ‘She flinched. I reckon she's waking up. Time for another dose, I'd say.'

‘I still think we ought to wait till she's stirring proper. The physician said she'd be out for hours yet. She's a slight little thing and I'd hate to give her too much. The king's man's expecting a fine live calf. He's not going to accept a load of dead meat instead.'

‘Do you want her to wake up, you fool? Just fetch the cursed flask.'

There was some rustling of clothing and snow around her. It took all of Sierra's willpower not to move. She heard a trickle of liquid and then a voice, directly over her head this time, said, ‘Hold her nose so she'll open her mouth. Get ready to put your hand over it once
she's got the dose. This stuff tastes so foul folk will spit it out even in their sleep.'

Rough, coarse hands pressed against her face. Sierra forced herself to remain limp, resisting the rush of fury that came at the touch. At any other time her power would have been arcing over her skin by now but the drugged sleep had drained her reserves and there was no one here in enough discomfort to feed her.

She had to fight not to let the muscles of her jaw tense as massive fingers pinched her nostrils shut and another hand fumbled to pry open her mouth. When a calloused finger brushed against her lips, Sierra sank her teeth into his fingertip.

The man let out a shriek and threw himself back, thrashing and fighting like a calf at the first touch of a rope on its neck. He tasted foul, of dirt and grease and blood. Sierra opened her eyes to see faces and bodies of half a dozen men looming over her with many hands holding her down while others tried to pry her jaw apart. She held on for as long as she could, soaking up power until one of the men cuffed her across the face hard enough to dislodge her grip.

The beast within her roared into life, woken by the blow. It was a weak thing compared to her normal strength but sheer fury gave it an edge that bit deep. It swarmed over the men in a flickering net of light that tore through them like venom and filled her with a golden rush of power.

At the very first touch of it a searing line of fire bloomed around one of her wrists, scorching like hot metal. It dragged a cry of pain from her throat and the rippling threads of lightning flared red with pain as she tried to choke the power off.

Nearby, a horse squealed in fright. From her prone position Sierra saw it rear and then it bolted, yanking the sled beneath her into sudden, violent motion. For a moment the straps held her in place but when the horse veered in a few panicked strides the movement threw her out and sent her tumbling into the soft, deep snow.

She was wearing only soft indoor clothes but the sudden slap of the cold seemed distant and unimportant, buffered by the shield the power gave her. Sierra landed face down and spat out a mouthful of snow and blood. She still couldn't move, but it only then occurred to her it was because her hands and feet were bound.

Her wrists stung and throbbed. She knew that sensation and was in no hurry to invite it again. Sierra groped with hands bound behind her back but could get no purchase on anything. She could feel nothing, in fact, but the thick cloth that encased them. Mittens had been bound over them, she realised, before her wrists were tied with a cord. Her captors, whoever they were, were relying on Kell's old enchantments to contain her. With no time to repair them they must have merely tied them around her wrists and used the mittens so she couldn't get her fingers under them and wrench them free.

Sierra gritted her teeth and summoned her power. With a single slash she cut through cords, fabric, everything, and the cold touched her hands just as the punishment band flared again in a searing flash of heat that made her grunt in pain. With her hands free she sat up and tore the remains of the mittens away. Kell's old bracelets were there. The suppression stones were no longer strong enough to restrain her but the rubies gleamed at her darkly, wet now with the fluid from burst blisters. Sierra slipped her fingers under them and snapped the cords, dropping them into the snow. Then she freed her feet, slashing the cord with a quick lash of power.

She stood, sinking past her knees in the soft snow. The men who had been guarding her were running towards her with weapons in their hands. Their leader slowed when he saw the expression on her face and shifted his grip on the sword. ‘Now then, miss,' he said. ‘There's no need for all this. Just you do as you're told, and come quietly, or things will go cursed hard on you and your friends.'

Sierra let her power flare and surround her with a crackling nimbus of blue light. ‘
Make
me.'

 

Most of the men died when they tried to corner her and bring her back under control. What had possessed them to even try it Sierra couldn't say, but this time she didn't hesitate to kill them. She'd learned her lesson when Rasten had come to her on the riverbank.

When it was over, she felt drained. Not of power — power spilled over with every movement, leaving a trail of sparks crackling in the air — she simply felt empty and utterly alone. Nothing moved but the tips of the branches of the trees all around her, gently swaying in the air. The only sound was the wind moaning through the needles.

A few of them had tried to escape, fleeing on their panicked horses or in one case on foot. That was the one Sierra had followed, hoping to learn why they had brought her here and where ‘here' even was.

But the fellow had heard her coming. The moment she had worked out his location was the instant he cut his own throat. She found him staring blankly up at the sky with the knife fallen from his hand and blood sheeting down his chest. He had blinked at her once, rolled his eyes and then died with one last rattle of breath.

If she could catch one of the spooked horses maybe she could follow the others, but in their place she would be riding as if all the demons of the underworld were after her. Her chance of catching up with them was small.

With a sigh, Sierra laid the dead man face down on the snow to strip off his coat, boots and any other gear she would need once her power calmed enough to let her feel the cold.

She was just setting the snowgoggles over her face when she heard the shuffling cadence of a horse trotting in snowshoes. Pulling the goggles down to hang around her neck, she moved away from the body lying in a smear of frozen red and let her scavenged war-coat conceal her as she hunkered against a drift of snow.

A man on horseback came into sight a few moments later. The horse was weary but skittish and it baulked as its rider urged it towards the crumpled corpse. Sierra now knew enough to recognise it as a finer beast than the scruffy ponies assigned to the rank and file of the warriors.

When the horse refused to move any closer the rider dismounted and with the reins in one hand crouched down to turn the body over.

Sierra clenched and unclenched her hands, working hard to keep her power in check.

With a shake of his head the figure stood, pushing his hood back and tugging down his goggles. Sierra narrowed her eyes when she saw his face. Ardamon.

He muttered a curse as he looked around, squinting in the sunlight and the glare. Then he looked down at the snow, just as she remembered her tracks would lead him to her. She tensed, readying her power, but Ardamon didn't move. In fact he held himself very still.

‘Sierra?' he called quietly. It was cold enough that even a conversational tone would carry a long way. ‘Sierra, I know you're here.
I've come to help you. I … Well, Cam sent me. I swear on what honour my clan has left that I had no part in this.'

‘Why should I believe you?' she said, and stepped out from behind the trees, power ready to cast a shield. ‘If Cam had something to tell me he would come and find me himself.'

‘He's sick,' Ardamon said. ‘They fed him the same thing they used to drug you and Mira, only he had a bad reaction to it. He couldn't stand, let alone ride. Rhia says he'll be alright in a day or so.'

‘Mira?' Sierra said. ‘What's happened to her?'

‘Dremman sent her back to Ruhavera.'

‘And what was the plan for me? Was he going to sell me back to Kell?'

Ardamon twisted the reins between his hands. ‘Yes.'

‘Tigers take him,' Sierra snarled. The burn around her wrist throbbed and tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back and turned her face up to the brilliant sky. ‘He was telling the truth.'

‘You mean Rasten?' Ardamon said. ‘Cam told me.'

Sierra gritted her teeth, unsure whether or not she could believe him. She hadn't had time to take in the faces of the men gathered around her when she lay on the sled and there might well have been others who had hung back. She couldn't be sure Ardamon hadn't been among them. ‘Why would you come to help me? You've never thought me to be anything more than a nuisance and a threat.'

Ardamon shifted his weight uncomfortably. ‘I can't deny that. And I have no proof to offer you. Look, Lord Rasten was due to meet my father's men but I don't know when or where. Cam told me you might wake earlier than expected. All I could do was hope he was right and that I found you before they met to hand you over.'

Sierra hissed and turned on her heel to survey the surrounding land. Of course Rasten would be out here. Her mind was still addled by the drugs and the rush from the power she had gained was more a hindrance there than a help. The slowness of her wits frightened her.

‘We should head back before Rasten realises something's gone wrong,' Ardamon said. ‘My horse can carry two until we can track down one of the others from the escort —'

Sierra pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. ‘Wait! Wait just a moment.'

‘There's no time.' He started towards her, leading the weary and reluctant horse after him. ‘Get on. I'll ride behind you —'

Sierra backed away, raising one hand to warn him off. ‘Just why in the Black Sun's name should I trust you?' she snapped. ‘For all I know Dremman sent you here in case this all went wrong —'

‘Fires Below, girl, just do as I say! For the love of life, there's no telling how close Lord Rasten and his men may be —' Ardamon reached for her arm and Sierra slapped his hand away. She was tense enough that her power spilled over with the movement and a twisting strand of energy leapt up and stung him like a hornet. Ardamon stiffened with a grunt of pain and Sierra hastily called it back in while the horse danced and snorted at the end of the reins. It was pure luck that Ardamon kept enough of a grip on them to keep the beast from bolting.

‘I have no reason to trust you,' Sierra said, while Ardamon swore and flexed his throbbing hand.

‘On the honour of my clan!'

‘What honour?' she spat.

He flushed and spluttered under her narrow gaze. He was as arrogant as only one of the noble-born could be. She had seen the same in Cam and Isidro on occasion, but the hard life they had led had beaten most of it out of them. Ardamon had always rubbed her the wrong way and now she couldn't be sure whether this was merely more of the same, or if her instincts were telling her something to which she ought to listen.

‘Listen to me, you daft chit,' Ardamon said. ‘We can sort this out when we get back to camp. Right now we have to move. If Lord Rasten catches up with us —'

‘If he does, I'd rather it happened when I'm awake and full of power, not drugged into a stupor,' Sierra said. ‘For that matter, why wait? He can't be far away.
Rasten
!' she shouted, and echoed the cry within her own mind, summoning him with power as well. Ardamon blanched and staggered back a few steps while his horse began to spook and plunge all over again.

I'm here, Little Crow. I wondered when you'd get around to calling me. Look to the ridge to your south.

She turned to see a flare of red light shoot up through the trees.

While her attention was diverted Ardamon came up behind her and clapped a hand on her shoulder, but then he, too, saw the light; she felt his hand tremble. ‘You little fool,' he said hoarsely.

 

They had to wait only a few minutes until Rasten emerged from the trees, mounted on a fine black horse. At a distance of fifty yards or so he dismounted and approached on foot. ‘Well, Sirri, do you believe me now?' he called as he led the horse over.

Sierra had moved out into the clearing to meet him. Behind her the remains of the men she'd killed lay scattered over the snow between the trees. Ardamon stood a little way back and to her left, where she could keep watch on him from the corner of her eye.

‘Are you here to tell me you told me so?' Sierra said.

Rasten pushed his hood back, tugged his snowgoggles down and grinned at her, displaying a mouthful of neat white teeth as though this were the best joke he'd heard in an age.