North Star Guide Me Home (34 page)

‘I … I wanted to go home, Sirri. But I couldn’t … I don’t even know where to look. This is the only home I know. I … I swore I wouldn’t bother you again, but I just … I couldn’t …’

She moved closer, taking slow, careful steps. ‘Hush, it’ll be alright. Come up to the palace, we’ll get you something to eat, get you warmed up. You’ll feel better then.’ She glanced up at the palace again. Cam would be furious. Isidro … she couldn’t guess how he’d react, he was a mystery to her these days. But she’d deal with them. Rasten was her kin, her brother by blood and fire. She couldn’t turn him away. ‘Here,’ she said, ‘give me your hand.’

He held her gaze for so long that Sierra wondered if he’d heard her, but at last he shuffled forward and took her offered touch.

He swayed on his feet as she drained the pain away, and she braced herself for the stinging slap when she broke the contact, when his power tried to snatch back what she’d stolen, but it never came. In silence, he turned towards the fortress and shuffled onwards again. Within a few strides, a renewed ache spread through his wounded leg. Every line of his body spoke of exhaustion, and he reminded her of the freed slaves in the first hours after their chains were struck off: drained and bewildered, their reserves run too low to understand what had befallen them.

As she matched pace beside him, Sierra swallowed hard and reached for Isidro.
Issey?

Hmm?
He was in the workshops, the rooms Delphine had taken over as the headquarters for Ricalan’s new mages.

Rasten’s here.

She felt him go still.
What? Where?

We’re heading up to the palace.

What does he want?

Don’t know. I’m not sure
he
knows. He’s … well, when you see him for yourself, you’ll understand.

He cut the contact, and Sierra’s stomach flipped within her.

Rasten kept a steady pace up the hill to the gates. As he hobbled through the gatehouse tunnel, he looked over the walls, blackened by fire and melted here and there to a glassy sheen. During the attack, the heat had been so fierce that the edges of the arrow-slits rippled like a block of butter left near the fire.

Once through the tunnel, Rasten struck out for the doors near Kell’s quarters.

Before they were halfway across, Sierra saw Isidro emerge from the main entrance. He caught up near the doors, but Rasten appeared not to notice. He set a path to Kell’s old quarters in silence.

At the foot of the steps, Rasten stopped, letting his staff fall with a clatter, and then stumbled forward to press his hands and forehead against the wall of stone that filled the doorway.

‘It’s gone, Rasten.’

It was Isidro who spoke. At the sound of his voice, Rasten began to tremble. ‘Was … was anything left?’ he said. ‘The city fell. It would have been looted —’

‘No one touched the place,’ Sierra said. ‘We checked. I buried it all, Rasten. There’s nothing left but rock.’

‘What about the sea cave? The eels?’

‘That too. Don’t know about the eels. I hope they’re dead.’

‘Me too,’ he said. He turned to face them, and his legs folded under him, sliding down the rough stone until he sat heavily on the floor. ‘Sirri … there were some things I left, hidden in my cell. Did … did you find them?’

She went to him and knelt at his side. ‘No … I didn’t think to look. I’m sorry. Were they important?’

He laughed at that, a dry, broken cackle. ‘Important? No. Just rubbish I snuck past the old man. I was going to get rid of them, burn them maybe, or throw them into the sea. But you took care of it already.’ He twisted around to look over the wall, and the movement sent a wave of fire through Sierra’s back and shoulders in a sympathetic echo. ‘Don’t leave it like this. Hollow it out, turn it into storerooms, or a cesspit, I don’t care. Make it so that in a hundred years’ time, no one remembers where the cursed place was.’ He seized her wrist. ‘Please, Sirri!’

‘Alright,’ she said, ‘I’ll do it. I promise, Rasten.’ She tried to ease her arm out of his grip. With wide eyes, he glanced down, and only then did he seem to realise how he’d grabbed her. Hastily, he let her go, and then scrubbed his hands over his face.

Then, Rasten shuddered, and groped for the wall as he struggled to stand. Isidro cast a mage-light into the air, and in its glow Rasten’s eyes seemed blank, blinded, as he turned towards the passage leading through the interior of the fortress, the one Isidro had taken to bring her here when they’d first arrived, and set out to follow it.

‘Rasten!’ Sierra called after him, but he ignored her as he hobbled away into the darkness. Muttering a curse, she turned to Isidro. ‘Does Cam —’

‘He knows. Go after him, I’ll clear the passage from the other end.’

Shaking herself, she started after Rasten. He glanced back when he heard the slap of her boots on the stone, but didn’t break his stride.

He knew his way around better than she had. He set a path unerringly for the chambers behind the main door, the only part in use at the moment.

She tried to talk to him, but he ignored every word as though she hadn’t spoken. When she reached for his mind, she found his shields hard in place, sheer and impenetrable.

By the time they reached the entry-hall, it was packed with folk, crowded together in a cacophony of confused and worried voices. When the noise first registered, Sierra saw Rasten’s step falter, but he pressed on again until a turn in the passage brought them into view. At the sight of them he flinched, clenching his fists until the knuckles gleamed white through his skin.

‘Rasten …’ Sierra said. She would have laid a hand on his arm, but she could tell from the bunching of his muscles that it would be a bad idea. He hated crowds, and after what she’d been threatened with on the banks of the Greenstone River she had an idea why. Right now, he was on a knife-edge of self-control and there was no telling what would push him over. ‘Fires Below, Rasten,’ she said. ‘Would you cursed well
talk
to me? I want to help you.’

That, at last, seemed to get his attention. He swung his head her way, his eyes haunted and full of pain. ‘There’s nothing left to say, Sirri. You’ve done all you can.’

She had to strain to hear the first of his words, but by the time he finished, the crowd had fallen silent. Some had seen him before, of course, but only once, when he came out of the night like a demon of flame and fury to slaughter their captors and set them free. To the others he was just a legend.

‘Stand aside,’ a voice rang out through the sudden silence.

It was Isidro, standing at the doorway to the throne room. With a shuffling of feet on stone, the gathered folk obeyed.

With a deep, steadying breath, Rasten started forward. ‘I want to see the king.’

‘Let him through,’ Cam called from the chamber beyond.

Sierra drew a sharp breath, and bit her lip.

What does he want?
Isidro asked.

By the Black Sun, I wish I knew. Be careful, Issey, he’s half-mad at the moment. You can see it in his eyes.

When is he ever less than half-mad?
he asked, but with a gesture to the guards, he moved aside, leaving the doorway free.

Rasten started forward, limping more heavily now. Hurrying through the passages had cost a great deal of his strength, Sierra judged. She kept pace beside him, and as they passed Isidro he fell into step at Rasten’s other shoulder.

In the throne room, Cam stood on the dais with his hand on the hilt of his sword. A movement on the gallery above caught Sierra’s eye, and she glanced up to see archers lining the walkway, with mages scattered between them. Ardamon stood behind Cam, sword and shield in hand, and guardsmen lined the walls, though what they hoped to do against someone like Rasten, Sierra couldn’t guess.

Rasten hesitated at the sight of him, but hobbled to the centre of the room. Then, he sank to his knees on the cold stone.

‘Your grace,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘You told me once you’d have my life for what I’ve done. Well, I’ve come to lay it at your feet.’

Sierra lunged forward. ‘No! You son of a bitch, Rasten, I —’

Rasten’s head snapped her way, as sharp and intent as a hawk, and he flung up one hand, releasing a cord of power that caught her about the chest and wrapped her up in a web of power, like a spider catching a fly.

At the flash of power and flame, Cam ripped his sword from its sheath. ‘Let her go.’

Rasten bowed his head, but didn’t lower his hand. ‘I mean it, Cammarian,’ he said. ‘My life is yours. Just swing your cursed sword and finish it.’

Isidro started forward, glancing from Sierra to Cam. She could break out of it, surely — he knew Rasten couldn’t dominate her as he once had, whereas Cam had no defences. Cam needed him, but Sierra could fend for herself … couldn’t she?

Cam jumped down from the dais, levelling the point of his sword at Rasten as he advanced. ‘I said, let her go!’

Rasten sat back on his heels, lifting his chin. ‘No. You’ll have to kill me!’

At that, Cam faltered, turning to Isidro with a worried glance. ‘Issey, help her!’

Swallowing a curse, Isidro turned to Sierra and reached for the flame-coloured ropes wrapped around her.

Rasten tried to protect his working, but he wasn’t quick enough — Isidro drained the power away, drawing it into himself and, as the cords of power evaporated, Sierra’s legs gave way, and she fell, gasping for breath.

‘What cursed game are you playing at?’ Cam demanded.

Rasten dragged his hands across his face, as though he meant to claw the skin away from his skull. ‘I told you!’ he roared. ‘Just do it! End it! I want it to be over!’ With the words, Rasten’s power flexed and spilled as he loosened his grip upon it. Flames boiled out of the air to wrap around him, pouring down his back like water, spreading out around his feet in a flickering, liquid pool. Isidro felt them reach through the floor, wrapping about the pillars beneath the palace as the building around them began to shake.

Isidro reached for Sierra.
Shields!
he snapped inside her head.

She didn’t answer, distraught and overwhelmed, and so Isidro snatched at her power instead, drawing it in and casting a shield to contain Rasten’s seething power.

As the tremors died away, Sierra heaved herself to her feet and started towards the two men, one with sword drawn, the other kneeling unarmed upon the stone. ‘Cam, please!’

He didn’t lift his eyes from Rasten. ‘I’ve killed men in battle,’ he said. ‘I’ve slain wounded to spare them suffering. I’ve killed those who’ve threatened me and my kin. But I’ve never yet spilt the blood of a man who’s lost his wits.’

Rasten threw his head back and howled, a sound of pure anguish and pain. ‘You think I’m mad? Curse you, you know what I’ve done! I’ve raped, tortured and murdered. I’ve taken more lives than I can count. Your brother and Sierra — do you want me to tell you what I did to them, every cursed moment? What if I told you I enjoyed it, every gasp and cry? You know what I deserve, just do it!’

Cam didn’t move. ‘Of course you’re mad. I’d wager you have been since Kell slaughtered your family. If you just wanted to die, why didn’t you cut your own cursed throat?’

‘If I’d come in here tearing your guards apart you’d have filled me with arrows by now!’ Rasten thundered.

‘Then why didn’t you?’ Isidro said, moving to Cam’s side.

When Rasten turned to Isidro there were no defences left in his gaze, just a bone-deep weariness and an unending pain. ‘I’ve done enough harm,’ he said. ‘You know why I’m here. I can’t take it anymore. The nightmares, the memories, the pain … the way people look at me, the tales they tell when they think I can’t hear. I want to be done with it! I want some peace.’

‘Rasten, no,’ Sierra said. ‘Not after everything we’ve been through. You’ve come so far! Kell’s gone, you’re free. Isn’t this what you spent all those years suffering to achieve?’

He shook his head, tears spilling over his cheeks, and raised his arms to hide his face. ‘This? Being alone and weary and lost? I thought it would be better, Sirri, but it’s just bad in a different way. There’s nothing left for me, he took it all. I know he broke me, of course I know it — but now I see how bad the damage is. You showed me, you and these other folk going back to their lives. There’s nothing here for me, and I’d rather be dead than go on like this.’ He turned to Cam and closed his eyes. ‘I tried to do some good, to balance up the scales … but that’s over now, and it isn’t enough. I don’t want to live with the things I’ve done! I’m the last part left of Kell’s reign, the last piece of vermin to be destroyed. I don’t care what you do with me, hang me out for the birds, feed me to the cursed eels, I don’t give a shit. I just want it to be over. I want some peace. Your grace, please don’t make me beg.’

Cam stepped back. The coldness and fury had drained from his face, and now he just looked bewildered and uneasy. ‘Isidro,’ he said. ‘Issey … what would you have me do? Do you want him dead?’

Sierra clenched her fists, sending sparks of power rippling across her skin. ‘Cam, I swear by the Black Sun —’

‘Let him speak!’ Cam snapped. ‘He has a right to it.’

Isidro held himself as stiff as a sword’s blade. Rasten slowly folded, curling inward until he huddled on the stone, his face turned away. He seemed so small, this man who’d haunted him for so long. He was young, too, closer to Sierra’s age than his own.

The crumbling mind overcome by despair, the pain that lay over him like a blanket of lead — Isidro knew these, knew them intimately. He’d been in that cold and empty place and made the same desperate search for escape. He remembered how it felt to be so certain that nothingness would be better than this overwhelming, inescapable pain.

‘Don’t do it,’ he said. His voice sounded so hoarse and hollow he hardly recognised it. ‘It won’t solve anything. It won’t do any good.’

‘Look, I know he’s cracked, it’s as plain as day … a mad dog’s not to blame for its madness, but it can still work harm. I can’t let him hurt anyone else.’ He turned to Sierra. ‘I’m sorry, Sirri, I can’t.’