Empire of the Saviours (Chronicles of/Cosmic Warlord 1) (19 page)

Jillan did not blink as the hammer fell short. He stilled his breath. His father had told him never to hesitate. He released his arrow and it flew straight for the oncoming man’s heart.
Murderer
, whispered the voice within him.

Yet, with perfect timing, the man twisted just as the arrow was about to hit him and was again running at Jillan, only now he was much closer. As the woodsman sprinted across the clearing, he stooped, freed a longaxe from a log with a powerful flick of his wrist and screamed as he prepared to cleave the intruder in two.

Even as Jillan had released the first arrow, he’d begun to reach for another. He saw his first arrow miss and wondered how that was possible, but he did not let it distract him. As the man rushed towards him, Jillan calmly nocked the second arrow to his bowstring and reached within himself to limn the arrow with power. This one would not miss; it would fly unerringly, no matter what tricks the man attempted.

The woodsman had the axe raised above his head and was seconds away from bringing it down on its target. He saw the youth ready a second arrow. It shone with red warning as it reflected the light from the brazier. Like the arrow, the youth’s eyes were red and unflinching.
Damn! I am too slow. How can that be?
His senses screaming at him, the woodsman suddenly stopped, his breath caught in his chest.

At the moment Jillan was about to release, the man came to a precise halt. Perfect timing again. They watched each other in unmoving silence. The spell was finally broken by the golden patterns of Jillan’s armour writhing at the periphery of his vision. Jillan blinked.

‘You’ll be expecting me to make you tea or some such now, I suppose,’ the woodsman grouched.

From where he sat on a low stool, Jillan watched the rangy woodsman as he set water over the fire in his one-room cabin. The man had a dark stubbled chin and an ugly scar on one cheek. His age was indeterminate, anywhere between thirty and fifty, but he moved with an easy strength. He had a heavy brow that often cast shadows across his face, but his eyes glittered fiercely no matter how much light there was.

He caught Jillan watching him and smiled crookedly at him. ‘No one’s ever managed to sneak up on me before, especially not one so young.’

‘My father’s a hunter,’ Jillan said proudly, only then remembering he shouldn’t be giving away such information about himself.

‘That so?’ the woodsman answered with a raise of his eyebrows, encouraging Jillan to say more.

Jillan became more guarded. ‘I am Irkarl from Heroes’ Brook, travelling to Saviours’ Paradise. Thank you for inviting me to share your fire. Sorry about the manner of my arrival, but I am wary of pagans and so on.’

The woodsman frowned as he took dried leaves from a shelf and added them to the water. ‘You may call me Ash. What news from Heroes’ Brook, Irkarl?’

Jillan hesitated. ‘Ah … er … the road leading out of town is still flooded, so wagons are not coming to Saviours’ Paradise at the moment.’

‘I see. Travelling alone is a tad dangerous, though, isn’t it, despite how handy you are with a bow?’

Jillan nodded. ‘I am on pilgrimage. We must be prepared to suffer danger for our faith. I have chosen to take the long route round for the same reason. Ash, is it not dangerous living out here on your own?’

Ash stared at Jillan for a moment, clearly debating with himself how to answer. With a sigh, he finally said, ‘There are no pagans to be afeared of hereabouts, Irkarl, or at least I’ve never met any. As I said before, there are few that are able to stalk me without my being aware of it. And then … Well, bring your beaker of tea with you and we will sit outside for a while.’

Curious, Jillan did as the man bade, and they moved over to the brazier. Ash sat on the ground with his back against a comfortable-looking rock, while Jillan sat on an upturned log.

‘We need to wait for a bit,’ Ash said simply.

Jillan cupped his hands around the steaming beaker against the cold, and sipped at it. It was slightly astringent – his mother would have added a spoonful of honey to it – but it served well enough to spread some warmth through him.

‘How did you end up here in the first place, Ash?’ Jillan asked in the dim fitful light coming from the brazier.

There was no response for a long while, and Jillan wondered if the woodsman would bother to answer at all. Then, in a surly voice: ‘You are inquisitive, Irkarl. It’s not really your business, but I am one of the Unclean. Does that frighten you?’

‘Er … I don’t know what the Unclean are. It’s got nothing to do with washing, has it?’

‘No!’ Ash spluttered. A pause. ‘It’s far worse than that, certainly not something with which someone on pilgrimage would want to become involved.’

‘Really?’ Jillan asked in as light a tone as possible.

‘Really. I am outcast. The Saint wanted nothing to do with me. He forbade me ever to take a wife or to sire any children. When my parents died, the elders of Saviours’ Paradise decided that the house I grew up in should go to a family, so I had nowhere to live. I was effectively banished. They tolerate me visiting the community and trading on market days – the skins I take always go quickly and my carvings seem to be popular – but otherwise they don’t tend to like seeing me around. I imagine you’ll want to be leaving now.’

‘No, no,’ Jillan assured him. ‘I’ll stay a while if you’ll let me. But why would the Saint take against you? Did you do something bad?’

‘Ha! You really don’t know what it is to be Unclean then. You’re not Unclean because of something you’ve
done
, but because of something you
are
! I was born this way. Have you been Drawn yet, Irkarl? You’re of an age.’

Jillan was glad that the man wouldn’t be able to see his expression in the near darkness, because he would surely have discerned something was amiss. ‘Er, no. I will be Drawn when I reach the end of the pilgrimage.’

‘Of course. Well, let me tell you something of what happens when a person is Drawn.’

‘No, don’t! I mean … it’s a holy sacrament that’s meant to remain secret, isn’t it?’ Jillan tailed off. ‘Sorry, forget I said that. I would be happy to hear whatever you can tell me, Ash.’

‘Well, make up your mind. So, the Saint asks you to drink a small amount of some thick wine and then sticks a tube in your arm.’

‘A tube?’

‘Yes, a thin tube. It’s made of sun-metal.’

‘Really? I’ve never seen sun-metal. Does it really shine like they say?’

‘Anyway, the Saint sticks the tube in your arm so that blood comes out. The taint’s meant to come out with the blood, you see. But when the Saint tasted my blood—’

‘He tasted your blood? Yuck!’

‘When he tasted my blood, he said the taint wasn’t coming out and that I was Unclean. I couldn’t be Drawn. Then I became outcast, and that was that. But I prefer it this way. Here I can do whatever I want. I don’t have to work in the fields or with herds of animals. I don’t have Heroes watching me all day. I’m free to come and go as I want. Free.’

‘That’s … that’s …’ Jillan began, but he didn’t know what it was really and became quiet as he pondered all that he’d heard. They remained in a companionable silence for a good long while.

Ash brought them out of their reverie when he said, ‘Ah, here he is.’

‘Here who is?’ Jillan asked, looking round. He gasped as he saw a large black wolf lying no more than six feet from them. Its orange eyes burned like coals in the darkness and Jillan’s entire head would have fitted between its mighty jaws. Its tongue suddenly lolled out of its mouth and licked its long teeth as if it had heard that last thought.

‘Aaash!’ Jillan whined.

‘Do not fear, Irkarl. The wolf still eats well at this time of year. A month from now, however, with snow on the ground and most prey gone into their winter sleep, you might have left this place with fewer fingers than when you arrived.’

‘Ahh!’

‘I’m joking, Irkarl! Don’t take on!’

The wolf’s tongue lolled again and it panted a few times as if sharing the joke.

‘Is it friendly?’

‘Is not the fact it hasn’t eaten you yet friendly enough, Irkarl? But yes, he is the reason I do not fear to live out here alone. None can get close without the wolf knowing about it and warning me. For all that, though, you managed to come here and draw a bow on me. It shows I mustn’t become complacent. Maybe the wolf let you through to teach me a lesson. Who knows?’

‘What is its name?’

‘I don’t know. He hasn’t told me.’

‘How could he tell you? Wolves can’t talk!’

‘Just because you haven’t heard it talk doesn’t mean that it cannot. It may simply choose not to.’

‘Well, why don’t you give it a name?’

Ash shook his head. ‘It’s not my place to give him a name, Irkarl. Besides, he’ll already have one. He just hasn’t decided to tell it to me. And why should he? There’s no real need to, and names have power, you know. Who am I to have power over this wolf, eh?’

‘Hello, wolf!’ Jillan said politely. ‘My name’s Irkarl. Pleased to meet you.’

The wolf growled and bared its teeth at him.

It can’t know that I’m lying about my name, can it?

‘Easy, wolf! Irkarl is our guest. What sort of hosts would we be if we scared him to death, eh?’

The wolf subsided, but it did not take its menacing gaze off Jillan.

‘Well,’ Ash said with a smile, ‘time to cook something, I reckon. The wolf may feed himself well, but it’s never averse to a bit of extra squirrel. Do you like squirrel, Irkarl?’

‘I’m not sure – I’ve never tasted it,’ Jillan admitted. ‘But I’ll come with you,’ he added, not wanting to be left alone with the wolf.

Jillan sat back feeling comfortable for the first time in days. They’d enjoyed a roasted squirrel each, Jillan sharing half of his with the wolf to buy forgiveness for his earlier lie, and now they sat out by the brazier drinking some cloudy fermented concoction with which Ash was proudly generous and jealously mean by turns. Jillan had not cared for the muddy drink at first, but after half a beaker or so his judgement shifted and he accepted more whenever it was proffered. With the wolf breathing deeply by his side, food in his stomach and a friend to share his thoughts with, all seemed right with the world. He felt relaxed and safe.

‘You know, Asssh, these woodsh aren’t sho bad!’

‘Of coursh they’re not. How could they be, with me living here?’

The wolf groaned and stretched out longer on the ground.

‘True, true. But I was … thinking.’

‘Go on.’

‘Well, you know you shaid you were free here? Well, you aren’t really, are you?’

‘What do you mean?’ Ash protested.

‘You’re not allowed a wife or children, are you? And you’re forbidden a larger community. Yesh, you’ve got the wolf, I know, but you pretty much live in a punishment chamber without wallsh, don’t you?’

‘Well, you live in a punishment chamber
with
walls, don’t you!’ Ash shot back. ‘Tell me, which one’s better, Irkarl?’

‘Huh. They’re probably as bad as each other. You’re right. Can I have shome more?’

‘Of course I’m right! Careful, though, that sounds a bit like blasphemy, and you’re a good little pilgrim, aren’t you, Irkarl? You’re trotting along to the Saint like a good little boy to have yourself Drawn, just like your Minister, mummy and daddy told you to.’

‘I am not!’ Jillan shouted belligerently. ‘My parents didn’t tell me anything like that! They …’

‘Oh, he changes his story now! Now he’s
not
on pilgrimage! Can never make up his mind, this one.’

‘I’m not on pilgrimage! I’m … I’m …’

‘You’re what?’ Ash asked intently. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you told me the truth, Irkarl, if that’s your name? The wolf doesn’t seem to think it is. I would think the truth is the least you owe me after I’ve shared my fire and stores with you, wouldn’t you, especially when you pretty much forced your way in here?’

‘I …’ Could he trust this strange man and his even stranger companion?

Ash dropped his voice and made it gentler. ‘Look, who am I going to tell? The trees? The sky? You’re clearly in some sort of trouble. The way I see it, we’re stuck in the same punishment chamber, you and me, and only have each other to help us escape. Here, let me fill that beaker of yours – it must have a leak in it ’cause it always seems more empty than full.’

Jillan sighed and held out his beaker with a nod. ‘My name’s Jillan.’

‘Well, that’s a start. And what misfortune has the world forced upon you that sees you end up with a patched-up old man of the woods and a flea-ridden wolf?’

The wolf made a rumbling noise but did not move from where it lay by the brazier.

‘Overweight too.’

A louder rumble and then a show of teeth.

Jillan smiled weakly and took a swallow of Ash’s forest brew. ‘Someone died,’ he said quietly.

‘Ahh,’ Ash breathed.

The brazier fizzed and sighed.

‘It was my fault. I ran away instead of letting them put me in a punishment chamber.’

Ash nodded. ‘How did they die, Jillan?’

‘There was a fight. Three of them. I … Well, there was something like lightning and it killed Karl. Then there was the inn. The innkeeper had me trapped in a room, and when he came for me, a similar thing happened.’

‘That whoremonger Valor, yes? It’s no loss, Jillan, believe me. There’s a reason why he had to leave Saviours’ Paradise and set himself up in the middle of nowhere. All knew what went on and what that poor girl had to suffer. Her mother took her own life when she found out, they say, although others say Valor did for her when she tried to protect the girl.’

‘The Saint is after me, Ash! He always knows everything. And I think he’s now taken my parents prisoner. What am I to do? There’s no escape.’

‘Come now, that’s not the warrior who caught me unawares speaking. That’s not the man who has come all the way from Heroes’ Brook on his own speaking. That’s not—’

‘Godsend, not Heroes’ Brook.’

‘All the way from Godsend then. That’s not the fellow who finally gave Valor the comeuppance he deserved, now is it?’

‘I suppose not,’ Jillan conceded morosely. ‘But what does it matter? The Saint will find me, and then I’ll suffer the worst punishment possible for all the things I’ve done. I deserve it too.’