Blood Of Kings: The Shadow Mage (19 page)

Erild shook his head and laughed bitterly. “I’d sooner die here than betray that one. The day you married, Crawulf, you invited a very dark guest into your life. You will know soon enough.”

And die he did. He took no joy in the death, nor in Erild’s betrayal by his own men, mercenaries whose loyalty was so easily bought. The payment they would receive would be one fitting to their double betrayal and not the reward they envisaged in their greedy hearts. When Rothgar rode up to the clutch of trees Crawulf saw that his companion was the fisherman’s youngest son. His heart was gladdened that the boy had survived, even if his life was now forever changed.

He nodded a greeting to his giant housecarl, aware at the ripple of anxiety coming from the waiting mercenaries. “My wife?”

“She lives,” Rothgar answered as he clambered down from his horse to help Crawulf. He did not comment on his jarl’s smile as he helped him up onto his own horse and took the reins to lead the injured jarl back to his castle. The fisherboy and Erild’s unreliable men followed in their wake.

Tomas: The Great Wood

T
omas woke disorientated and with a pounding head and a nauseous stomach. An orange glow coming from a fire-pit in the centre of a small hut threw out a faint light filling the small space with thick smoke. An involuntary groan escaped his lips as he sat up, pain washing over his throbbing head. His first thought was for Aliss.

In the gloom he could make out walls made from mud daubed over a wooden frame. Loose reeds coated the floor, and, bound tightly together formed a thatch over the low roof above him. He noticed his sword lying on the ground beside him. This surprised him, but made him no less wary. He was alone. A piercing wail made him pause, a shriek from some sort of animal, a cat perhaps. As he listened intently, the main door of the dwelling suddenly swung inwards, making him jump and fumble for his sword.

The bandit who had hit him over the head stepped in, carrying a plate of what looked like bread and roast meat. The smells drifting towards him and the involuntary rumble from his stomach confirmed his suspicion. “Relax. I’ve brought you some food,” the man said.

“Where is my woman?”

“She is with Haera,” the brigand replied, and offered the plate of food to Tomas. “Sit. Eat. She will summon you when she is ready.”

With the door open, Tomas could see that night had fallen and outside was a blanket of darkness. He could also hear the wailing of the animal more clearly now. An animal of sorts, he realised, for surely what he was hearing were the cries of a baby. Confusion reigned as he cautiously took the plate from the outstretched hand. “If she has come to any harm…”

“She’s in no worse condition than when you brought her here, leastwise, not by any hand of ours. She’s not far from death as it is.” Tomas scowled at the brigand as he sat back down and began tearing chunks off the bread. “No hard feelings about, eh…” The brigand indicated Tomas’ head. “We couldn’t just let you walk in here. I remember you. I knew Haera would want me to bring you to her.”

The meat was venison, succulent and delicious. Tomas mopped the grease with the bread. “You have other women here?” he enquired as he crammed the food into his mouth.

“Just Haera.”

“But I heard a baby crying,” Tomas said.

The brigand shrugged. “Haera often has… requests.”

Realisation dawned as Tomas remembered the missing baby from the village. “What need would the old crone have for a baby?”

“If you know her, and I think you do, then you know that some questions are better off not voiced.”

There were numerous bandit gangs using the Great Wood as a base, Tomas knew, but all of them would seek out Haera, the Forest Witch, as she was known, if they were in need of her unique abilities, oft as not looking for a potion or unction to kill as well as heal. His band of villains, long disbanded, were no different.

“I don’t know you. How is it you know me?”

“I’ve been with Haera a long time now. You were ever one of her favourites.”

“Hmmm,” Tomas snorted, “she had a strange way of showing it.”

“Aye well, she has her own ways.” He turned and walked to the entrance then. “Rest, she will send for you when she is ready. She is with your woman now.” With that he was gone.

Tomas finished his meal and lay back on the wooden-framed cot. From his recollections of the old woman he knew there was little point in forcing the issue, as he was told, when she was ready she would send for him. It was unwise to antagonise or press her. She possessed a power he did not understand; even Joshan had been wary of her and the dark magic she was capable of. Sleep did not come, however, as both his mind and heart ached to be with Aliss.

Later that night the brigand returned and indicated for Tomas to follow him. No words were necessary, and the blacksmith leapt up eagerly. He was led to another dwelling, much like the one he had just left. The two men entered slowly. A thick pungent odour hung heavily in the air, so thick he could feel it cloying the back of his throat, while the sound of an infant crying pierced his hearing. The strong scent was both sickly and intoxicating at the same time, making his head swim the moment the door was closed behind him. A fire burned in a pit at the centre of the dwelling, adding its own peaty fragrance to the mix. Tomas blinked away the grogginess threatening to overwhelm his senses.

“I did not think to see you again,” a voice cackled from the gloom of the hut.

Tomas saw a pile of fur and vegetation move from the shadows to stand erect in the centre of the room. He realised the apparition was the old woman dressed in animal hides and wearing a crown of leaves on her head of long grey hair. The flames from the fire spread her flickering shadow across the floor and up the wall. He quickly scanned the rest of the dark room and located Aliss, almost hidden beneath a shaggy fleece. He ran to her side, while the old woman cooed and clucked at the wailing baby.

“Your woman has not long left in this world; she will soon join her baby.”

“Baby?” Tomas swung around to look at the old woman who had now picked up the infant from its crib.

“You didn’t know? She was with child, but there is no life left in that which is inside her. The torment suffered by the mother was too much for the unborn babe to bear.”

Tomas felt a lump rising in his throat as he turned back to his horribly injured woman. He shook his head; his words came out broken and cracked, “No… I didn’t know.”

“What is it you want of me?”

“Help her,” he simply answered.

She turned her back on him as she bounced the baby in her arms, whispering soothing words into its small ear. Tomas waited for her to answer. She said nothing for a long while until she finally turned back to face him, absent-mindedly stroking the baby’s hand. “Do you know what you ask?”

“Yes.”

“I do not think you do.” He followed her gaze towards the babe in her arms. “She is beyond the help of man. There is only one way to save your woman now, blood magic, the darkest of all arts, and it comes with a price. Are you capable of bearing that price?”

Tomas looked into her dark eyes as the fire steamed and hissed beside her. The baby began crying again, adding to the noise of a beating drum banging inside his head. His eyes watered from the heavy, spicy air in the hut and knowledge that he may lose the lives of two and not just the one. The old witch’s words reverberated through his mind
. ‘She was with child – the babe no longer lives…’
“Yes,” he answered.

“And what are you willing to pay?” she cackled as she stroked the baby’s cheek with a long, bony finger.

“Anything. Including my life, if it is your wish to take it.”

“It may be that it will be the price I ask, young knight.” She displayed blackened teeth as her mouth formed a smile.

“So be it,” he answered, refusing to rise to her taunt. It was a long time since he served in the Royal Guard, making him neither a knight nor the young man he once was.

“You may keep it for now.” Her smile widened, looking more like a grimace in her worn, wrinkled face. “Do not deny my prize for an instant when I do call or I will seek the return of the gift I bestow.” Tomas nodded his agreement. “Now leave me!” She turned her back to him then and returned to clucking at the baby.

As Tomas reached for the door the infant began wailing once again, a terrible high-pitched screech. Tomas stopped and tensed as the cry was suddenly cut off. He exited the dwelling without looking back. The old woman’s words echoed in his mind as he stepped outside into the darkness and the earthy smell of the forest, in contrast to the suffocating stuffiness of the old woman’s hut. ‘
Are you capable of bearing that price?’
An image of Marjeri’s face came unbidden to him then, as she pleaded with the men of the village to find her baby, supposedly snatched by wolves.
Aye, kidnapped by wolves right enough, but wolves walking on two feet, and far more dangerous than any wild animal
. Overhead a light flashed across the sky followed by a thunderclap signalling the coming rain. Tomas barely felt the downpour even as it became torrential in an instant. He forced down his guilt and shame, and focused on his woman, Aliss, but a scar etched into a soul is not so easily dismissed.

“Hey, you there! Is your mind addled? Come out of the rain.” It was the brigand. Tomas turned to the sound of his voice and realised his vision was blurred. He had not noticed when his own tears began. “Why are you just standing there? Have your wits deserted you?” The forest outlaw took his arm and led him back to the hut he had woken in. “Wait here,” he said and ducked out of the entrance. Moments later he returned carrying, under his arm, a small wooden keg with a tap at one end. “Mandarian Brandy!” He beamed, also producing two pewter goblets. “We confiscated a wagonload of this stuff last winter when a convoy passed through the wood. A fair tax to allow the rest of them through.” He laughed.

Tomas just looked at him blankly. His body was shivering now; he knew it was not just from the cold and the drenching. He could hear the rain assaulting the thatch overhead. The bandit banked up the fire and then poured two generous goblets of brandy, handing one to the blacksmith.

“Is it true then?”

“Is what true?” Tomas said irritably, before downing a good swallow of the brandy. It burned as it slid down, warming him from the inside, almost melting the knot of dread gripping his stomach.

“Oh by the gods this stuff is good, like honey with the kick of a mule.” The brigand laughed. “Is it true that you were once a knight in the Royal Guard? I’m Rolf by the way.” He beamed a grin at Tomas.

“I was never a knight, but it’s true. I served in the Royal Guard… once upon a time. My name is Tomas.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Tomas.” Rolf stood and bowed theatrically before offering his hand. Tomas took it, with little enthusiasm and shook limply.

“So how did you end up here? You were quite notorious for a while. Even the other gangs operating in the wood feared you. To be honest, we thought you were dead when you disappeared.”

“The gods like their jests, and when my path through life was predestined it came with more than one twist.”

“So it would seem, my friend. Here, drink. I’ll warrant you’d not find as good as this even in the king’s hall.”

It was very fine brandy, Tomas grudgingly accepted, and held out his cup for a refill. Rolf continued to chatter, and with the drink to ease his burden, Tomas found the brigand an amiable enough companion, even if he did hit him over the head on their first meeting. He spoke of the harsh realities of life as a commoner raised to a king’s chosen warrior, though made no mention of Joshan’s involvement there, and how quickly the aristocracy are prepared to snatch back gifts they bestow when it comes to protecting their own. He laughed with Rolf as he talked about his brief career as a bandit of the Great Wood, and some of the characters known mutually to the two men. He talked a lot more than he would have liked had the brandy not flowed so freely and had Rolf not made an entertaining drinking companion.

When he woke, his head pounded and his stomach churned. Rolf was passed out on a mattress stuffed with leaves on the other side of the dwelling, the empty cask discarded on the floor beside him. Tomas swore and pushed himself up. His mouth and throat were parched, and each movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his head. Silently, he cursed the drunken bandit and himself for being an idiot with a loose tongue. Outside, spears of sunlight broke through the trees dappling the clearing with bright light. Tomas could see now that there were several similar sized dwellings huddled together and ringed with a defensive ditch, although he doubted any sort of determined attack would be even remotely delayed by the not-so-deep moat.

As he squinted in the direction of the old witch’s hut, using his hand to shade his eyes, a figure emerged from the darkness. Tomas froze, a lump rose in his throat.
Aliss,
her name formed on his lips but was snatched away by the early morning breeze before he could voice it. She saw him then and started to run towards him. He wanted to meet her, but his legs would not move. All of her hair had been burned off by the pyre, her skin horribly burned and scarred. Now though, although her hair had still not grown back, all of her other injuries appeared healed. There was not a blemish on her skin. Tears ran down his cheeks as she leapt at him. Encircling her with his arms, he buried his head in her shoulder muffling his sobs.

“Tomas!”

“Am I dreaming?” he finally said. “You are well and whole again.” He started to laugh uncontrollably. She just smiled back, a curious look on her face.

“What has happened, Tomas? I have no memory of how we come to be here. Why are we not at home?”

“Oh, love, it is as well you do not remember. I pray those memories never return.”

Suddenly she cried out in pain and doubled over. When Tomas looked down he saw a swelling stain of red spread across her dress. She screamed and collapsed into his arms as Haera hobbled up to them. “The babe,” the old witch said. “Bring her inside.”