The deathless ones, p.8
The Deathless Ones, page 8
Lyam sat down opposite him. “And why is that?”
Mylwin looked at Lyam and he felt his throat tighten. He thought of the hours Lyam had spent, days, months, teaching him and his friends to fight. He thought of how he had talked Lady Myra into fortifying Sarshap and of starting the farms again. Was this man really a traitor? What if he was wrong? What if the information he got was wrong? What if all the proof that he had so painstakingly collected was fabricated somehow?
“Lyam,” he said. “Lady Myra wanted me to find out who it had been that’s luring away our men. Though they still wear the colours of Rhenon, it is said they won’t answer to anyone except that man.” he paused, not knowing what to say. If Lyam was indeed innocent, wouldn’t he feel insulted?
“And you found out that it was I,” Lyam said, almost resignedly.
Mylwin could feel a sick feeling twisting in the pit of his stomach.
“So, it is you,” he said, feeling numb. “I almost convinced myself I was wrong.”
Lyam shrugged. “It had to be done,” he said. “There are things that you’re not aware of, things that are more important.”
“More important?” Mylwin asked, his voice throbbing with fury. “Lady Myra trusted you! We all did, and you... you betrayed us!”
Lyam was silent, just looking at Mylwin like he was seeing something interesting and strange.
“You’re a damn traitor!” Mylwin said.
“It’s a matter of perspective,” Lyam said. “What you call betrayal, I call strategy.”
“Strategy?” Mylwin yelled. He lowered his voice. The guards were all Lyam’s men. They would come rushing in if they heard him raise his voice. “When you came, we were in a bad situation, I admit. Lady Myra... she was young and most of the army didn’t listen to her because...”
“Because she is a woman,” Lyam said drily. “Were they all expecting some hitherto unknown son of Lord Keriven to appear out of thin air?”
Mylwin blushed. “So, they were stupid and biased, but she understood that! That’s why when you came and proved yourself, she allowed you to have so much power, because she knew they’d listen to you! Not so you can steal her men!”
“Her men?” Lyam asked. “Her men are still with her. The men you accuse me of stealing are the men I recruited into the army, men I trained and equipped.”
“In Lady Myra’s name and from her province!” Mylwin said, furiously.
“I admit to that, though you too have to admit that I did keep Nairiac intact.”
“As if that makes up for it,” Mylwin said as he stood up, “You’re just shameless, aren’t you?”
“I’m practical, and I have no regrets about what I’ve done,” Lyam too rose. “I suggest you stop yelling and start listening.”
“I’m only waiting for her to come back so I can tell her all about your treachery,” Mylwin said with gritted teeth.
“I’m glad your opinion of me hasn’t sunk so low that you think I’ll kill you here and now,” Lyam said drily.
Mylwin felt apprehensive and his hand sought the hilt of his sword. “Are you going to?”
Lyam shook his head. “Put that thing away before you hurt someone with it.”
Mylwin was angry at the tone of his voice. “I’m not a child!” He flared up.
“I’m sorry,” Lyam said. “Do you mind putting your sword away so we can have a civilised discussion?”
“Now, you’re laughing at me!”
Lyam looked heavenward. “Children!” he muttered.
Mylwin drew his sword. “You think I won’t use this?”
Lyam rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms across his chest. “I taught you how to use it, remember?"
Mylwin remembered, of course. He remembered how he had looked up to this man, this traitor. It nearly killed him now, that thought.
"You're so transparent," Lyam sighed. "You're a lot more like me than you realise."
"I'm nothing like you!" Mylwin was furious.
"Then why don't you run me through with that sword?"
Mylwin gaped. "You're unarmed!"
Lyam rolled his eyes. "In battle, if you lose your sword, do you think your enemy is going to wait until you arm yourself again before attacking? Is that what I taught you? If you have an advantage, you press it, or you die! A war is no place for foolish notions of fair play!"
"We're not doing battle now." Mylwin said swiftly.
Lyam shook his head. "Why don't you admit that I'm right?"
He took a step forward. Mylwin took a step back.
"About what?"
"The reason why you're part of Myra's guards instead of on the front line in spite of you being one of the best warriors in the army?"
Lyam was coming forward as he spoke and Mylwin found himself stopped short by the wall on his back.
"Why is that, except that you knew you couldn't buy me!"
Lyam sighed as he took the sword from Mylwin's suddenly nerveless fingers and flung it aside. They were standing only inches apart.
"No. The reason is you don't have the killer instinct. You are an idealist with foolish notions of nobility and fair play!"
"And you're still a traitor!"
Lyam shook his head as he took a few steps back. "It's only a matter of perspective, as I said before."
“We’ll see what Lady Myra has to say about that!”
Mylwin knew he was beginning to sound childish, but he didn’t care.
“For that, she has to come back from Mirrel,” Lyam said.
“Mirrel?” Mylwin was shocked.
Mirrel was in the hands of Syamin, and while Mylwin hadn’t heard anything disparaging about him, in this conflict, everyone was the enemy.
"You betrayed Myra to Syamin?” he asked, his fury rekindling again.
"Not exactly,” Lyam said. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“Either you told him or you didn’t.” Mylwin said. “What’s so complicated about that?”
“I didn’t have to tell him,” Lyam said, crossing his arms against his chest again. “You see, I am him.”
The Women
She was drowning. The water was inside her lungs, she couldn’t breathe and the strange thing was she couldn’t move either. She was a good swimmer; she would never be drowning if some mysterious force wasn’t keeping her immobile. She tried to break free, to swim, but it was impossible. She opened her mouth in a wordless scream and the water rushed in.
Marian woke, sweating. She didn’t know where she was. Her whole body was paining her. The light hurt her eyes. The room was too warm. She was thirsty. She tried to speak, but her tongue wouldn't co-operate. A cool hand touched her brow. Something was held against her lips and she opened them, drinking in the cool, slightly bitter concoction. A glass of water followed and she drank that thirstily. She was feeling drowsy and she slid into sleep. The next time she woke, she didn’t open her eyes immediately. She was feeling disoriented, but also pleasantly warm.
"When do you think she will wake?" The voice was female and unfamiliar.
"The danger from the fever is past now. She should wake any moment." The response was given by another female voice, soft and soothing.
"But she will be weak."
"Obviously. She won't be able to leave for a while."
Marian thought that was wrong. She had to go, but she couldn’t remember why. She knew she was supposed to be doing something important; she had to go somewhere, but she couldn’t remember what or where.
She slept again, and this time she dreamt of a forest. She was walking in the forest, collecting acorns, a small basket slung over her arm. A soldier came rushing out of the woods, his uniform a pale blur of orange and white. She could only see his grinning face, before his sword slashed and she screamed. Acorns spilled everywhere and in a red haze, she saw the man snatching at the chain that was around her neck.
She was in a village. It was raining. She stood there, hiding behind a tree, watching as the lights of the inn went out. She climbed the tree and slid into the inn through the window. She wrinkled her nose at the smell. There was a pool of vomit in one corner that she carefully avoided stepping in. She found him, the soldier who had taken her chain. He was half-sitting half-lying on a chair, with his face on the table in front, his mouth half-open. The window next to him was open, and the light of the first two moons was full on his face, and she gagged from the stench of spirits and sweat that emanated from him. A thin thread of saliva had made its way down his chin on the table. He was snoring lightly, his face twitching in his sleep. She slid out the knife from her waistband and slit his throat, before retrieving her chain from his pocket.
She was inside a room and a man was sitting there with his head on his hands, crying. A woman stood near him, her hands on his shoulder. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
"They’ll kill us!" The man was babbling. "They’ll kill us!"
"Not if we-" the woman swallowed. "She would be alive."
"Sell our children?" the man shouted, raising his head and looking at the woman.
"We’ve got to! She killed a soldier! They'll come for her! They'll kill us all!"
"They'll kill us all if they don't find her!" he yelled. “We’ve to run away!”
“Where can we go? The children will slow us down! This way, the children will be safe. They'll be alive... And... we can pray to the Elementals to find them good masters... And we can escape too! For they’ll surely kill us whether they find her or not!"
"The soldiers won't go near the slaver," The man looked down again. "They’ve soldiers of their own. They won't touch him or his property." he looked at the woman. "Get them ready. I'll take them. I'll tell the slaver we need the gold. Better if he don't learn the truth."
She was in a vast courtyard with a host of other children. Her brother clung to her hand. "Why are we here, Ranhel?" he asked. “Where’s mother?”
"Hush, Sawres. They said not to talk. They'll whip us!"
"I'm scared," he whispered. “And I’m hungry. Will they feed us?”
"I don’t know,” she whispered back. “I'm scared too."
Sunlight was streaming in through a window when she finally woke. She felt refreshed, and her head was clear so she took stock of her surroundings. She was on a bed in a long narrow room. The room was small, and typical of the treatment rooms found in every healer's house. It was long and rectangular with three beds, though the other two were currently empty. Circular windows were high up on the wall behind each bed. Marian sat up and a wave of dizziness came over her. She felt unusually weak. She sank back to the bed, trying to remember what had happened to her. She remembered the earthquake, her fall from her horse and—she frowned; someone had knocked her out. She was certain of it. Someone strong and stealthy. Was it the old man? Was he disguised as an old man? Her frown deepened. Who had brought her here? Where was here, anyway? She attempted to rise again, more slowly this time. This time, she didn’t feel dizzy, but she still felt weak. Her legs were shaking as she stood, holding on to the bed for support.
The door opened and a woman came inside; a healer, judging by her yellow robes.
"You're up! Good."
Marian recognised it as the soft and soothing voice she had heard in her half-conscious state. The woman had a pleasing face too, with regular features and a warm smile. She was of medium height, with short dark hair reaching just below her ears, dark grey eyes that looked almost black, and a firm chin.
"Where am I?" Marian’s voice was a croak.
"I’ll tell you all you want to know, but first, let us get you out of these rooms." The healer said. "I'm Sadjah. Come, you need to use your legs."
Marian took one shaky step, then another. By the time she reached the door, the trembling of her legs had worsened. Sadjah helped her into the other room and lowered her on to a couch.
"You sit there for a while and keep moving your legs and feet even while sitting. That shaking will disappear soon."
"Sadjah, I got the herbs you wanted, but-" Another woman came into the room, wearing a green tunic and brown breeches, and she stopped short at seeing Marian. "You're up."
"Yes, so you can now be easy and be on your way." Sadjah smiled. "Not that I want you to go, of course."
"Where am I?" Marian was glad to notice her voice was getting stronger.
"You're in the Dell, my village," Sadjah said. "Do you remember what happened to you? Do you remember who you are?"
"Marian... I'm Marian...The storm... the earthquake... my horse threw me... how did I come here?"
"I brought you," The other woman said. "You were lucky I found you."
"How long... how long was I here?" How much time had she lost?
"You came here the night of the Solstice. It has been three days now."
"Is this near Mirrel?" If she was, perhaps things weren’t so bad, after all.
"A half day’s ride to the west," Sadjah said. "Here, Niya, give me those herbs."
Marian frowned. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she said.
The two women looked at her and then at each other.
“Marian, you’ve been ill, and you hit your head.” Sadjah said. “It is natural to feel some disorientation, and the realisation of lost time can be difficult to adjust to.”
“No,” Marian shook her head. “I’m not disoriented...I’m just... I’m confused. I was thrown by my horse on the day of the earthquake,” she distinctly remembered that. “A storm was about to break, and then the earth shook, and my horse panicked and bolted, throwing me... I guess I must have hit my head...”
“The day of the earthquake?” Sadjah frowned. “That was four days before the Solstice.”
Marian nodded. “That’s what I remember too... and if you,” she looked at Niya, “found me only on the day of the Solstice, then how was it that I was still alive? How could I have just lain in those plains unconscious for days? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“It’s not something either of us can explain,” Niya said. “I hope you’re not complaining.”
Marian felt her cheeks warm. “No, I’m not, it’s not that... it’s just... What were you doing there? No one ventures out on the Solstice. No one.”
“I was lost,” Niya said. “I lost count of the days... and well... I’ve no idea how you survived. I wouldn’t have found you if my horse hadn’t literally stumbled across you. There was a sort of crack on the earth, and you were lying on its lip. It’s lucky for me too that my horse found you or we might have fallen into that crack.”
“You fell from the horse,” Sadjah said. “Yet, there were no marks on you. No bruises, nothing, except the one on your temple. For some reason, that doesn’t seem to be fading.”
Marian lifted her hand and touched her left temple where she remembered the blow landing. It didn’t feel any different from the rest of her face.
“It doesn’t hurt,” She said.
Sadjah brought her a small hand mirror, saying. “Your appearance might be shocking, but it’s the fever and the lack of food. You’ll be back to your normal self soon.”
Marian wasn’t shocked. She looked unkempt, and gaunt. Her hair was matted and dirty, and it felt sticky on her scalp. Her eyes were sunken, and there was a glitter in them, and she could see the bruise. It wasn’t black, or even the dark purple of most bruises, but a light bluish purple. It bothered her, that mark.
She put down the mirror, and said. “Can I go outside?”
She was suddenly feeling suffocated indoors.
“Good idea,” Sadjah said, but before she could move, Niya was looming over Marian.
"Come, I'll help you to the garden. It’ll do you some good to have a walk.”
Marian allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and helped by Niya, she went outside.
The Lines of Fate
The corridor was empty and Amrose’s footsteps echoed as he walked briskly. He was a tall man robed in white and gold as befitting his calling. He was a magician, and a particular favourite of his lord, Semil. For all that, his quarters were in the most isolated part of Semil’s mansion, accessible only through long corridors that had lain empty and disused for a long time. Semil had ordered that part re-opened and had set builders, carpenters, and cleaners to work to make it habitable. It was still set apart from the rest of the mansion, and Amrose enjoyed the isolation, and the reasons for it. They feared him. Everyone from the servants to the guards, to the Lord’s advisers feared him. Semil was the only one who didn’t, but then, the bond they shared precluded fear.
Amrose made a gesture and the doors to his room opened. They closed as soon as he entered.
“My Lord Semil!” he exclaimed as he saw the man standing inside the room, an open tome in his hands.
“Amrose,” Semil closed the book, and smiled at him. “I thought I’d pay you a visit and see if you’re comfortable here. I heard a rumour that none of the servants or attendants ever come here to clean.”
Amrose shrugged. “They’re scared, but it’s is all right. I prefer to be alone. My work requires precision, and focus. It’s very delicate and I’d rather not be distracted.”
Semil nodded. “I was worried, but I see I didn’t have to be,” he gestured to the room. “Everything looks spick and span.”
“The room is enchanted to provide me with all material necessities and comforts, and also to clean and repair itself.” Amrose said.
A frown appeared on Semil’s face.
“A spell like that could be draining,” he said, looking concerned, and Amrose felt his colour rise with pleasure.
“It did drain me a bit,” he admitted. “I was bedridden for almost a fortnight, but it’s worth it. I also have wards set up that will alert me as soon as someone reaches the first corridor.”
“How come I didn’t know you were bedridden?” Semil demanded.
“You were away,” Amrose shrugged.
Semil pressed his lips together for a moment. “How come your wards didn’t stop me?”
“Because I wasn’t in the room,” he said sheepishly. “The wards are not for my sake. I set them up as a precaution for when I’m working. I didn’t want to accidentally incinerate a servant or a guard while I am in the midst of an experiment.”
