Scrivener's Tale (28 page)

‘Yes,' she said, just short of snapping. ‘I lifted his arm.'

‘Ah,' he said, with smug understanding. A look of sympathy flickered into his expression as he adopted the tone of explaining something to a child. ‘Quite often when a body is shifted, or indeed even as it lies, air will escape. It's not uncommon to believe the dead are speaking when, in truth, it's simply the body settling. You were mistaken, majesty. Be assured, this corpse did not speak.'

Her lips thinned slightly. Morn had tried but had lost the battle not to sound condescending. She straightened her bearing to show her full height. ‘I did not imagine what I heard.'

‘Oh, dear me, no, your majesty, I'm not for a moment suggesting you did. It's just that the physics have explained the stages of the decomposing body to me. And I have been around enough to know that odd “sighs” do occur. It can be most disconcerting.'

‘It was
not
a sigh, Morn; it was a man calling out. He pleaded for help.'

Morn looked at her aghast.

‘Surely, your majesty is not —' Burrage began.

‘I know what I heard, Burrage. It was not a door creaking, it was not a dead body settling, it was quite clearly the word “Help”.' She glared at each of them, with her mouth set in a firm line, then she moved, speaking as she did so. ‘Morn, no-one is to shift or touch this man's body,' she said, reaching the chapel's door. ‘Burrage, I want you to find Master Fynch.'

He blinked. ‘How?'

She pushed open the chapel door. ‘I don't know how and I'm not sure I care. Find him. Have messages sent to every corner of the realm. He was on foot as far as I know so he may still be close. Nail up summons in all the town squares, spread the word among inns. Word travels faster than pigeon or horse but feel free to use every form of communication at your disposal. Get it moving. I want Master Fynch found and brought to me urgently.'

She left both men staring at the empty space where she had stood.

Cassien looked around the small, empty outbuilding that he'd been brought to. In a corner a small brazier burned. It struck him as odd but he didn't think further on it as he was held between two of Murdo's friends. He could smell the liquor coming off their breath.

‘I'm going to enjoy fighting you,' Murdo said, dark eyes glittering as he paced before him like a bull pawing at the ground before it charged.

‘It won't be a fight, Murdo,' Cassien said. ‘I won't strike you back.'

‘It's your choice, stranger. I'll just beat you into a pulpy heap, then.'

‘I suppose you will and that's easy, given that you have me held between your obedient dogs. It's hardly a fair challenge and far from the courage I'd expect from Razor braves.'

The men holding him showed their offence by pulling his arms harder and further behind his back until his tendons felt as though they might snap, his joints might pop.

‘Who are you calling a dog?' one said.

Cassien simply stared at Murdo, his expression unchanged by the stresses on his body.

‘Let him go,' Murdo ordered, frowning.

They shoved him forward, no doubt expecting him to fall over but Cassien was far too nimble on his feet and he took a step and twisted back, just in time to miss the blow that Murdo thought he'd land.

Cassien smiled at Murdo.

‘Put your fists up, pretty boy, so I can “fairly” smash up that freshly shaved jaw of yours.'

‘I don't need my fists,' Cassien replied, already seeing the blow before Murdo could land it.

Murdo punched … and felt only air against his knuckles. He turned to look for Cassien and found him standing behind him. He looked baffled. ‘Can't you stand still and fight like a man?'

‘Like a man who doesn't know how to fight, you mean? Like you, Murdo?'

Murdo roared and struck with both fists in a round swing meant to box his ears or break his jaw. It was a favourite move of the tough men of the Razors, or so Cassien had learned from Loup. In less than a blink, Cassien had cut both his arms in a sideways movement to block the man's fists. He could hear Murdo's teeth gnash with his rage. The mountain man kicked, again feeling only air against his shin as Cassien neatly leapt over the angry foot and landed lightly with bent knees. He stood up and waited patiently. His breathing rate hadn't changed. But Murdo was snorting like an enraged bull.

Murdo stared with fury, then rushed at him, yelling that fury. Cassien spun one way, Murdo lumbered in his direction, and then Cassien spun in reverse and avoided Murdo's pummelling by rolling over Murdo's back. The mountain man straightened quickly, confused, and roared as his men began to laugh. Cassien waited in an irritatingly patient pose with his hands by his sides, his body relaxed. It wasn't appropriate right now, but he wanted to congratulate the big man. Murdo was sure-footed and not nearly as cumbersome as he appeared.

‘Shar curse you!' Murdo roared. ‘Fight me!'

Cassien shook his head. ‘To what end?'

‘Prove which of us is the stronger.'

‘You are, Murdo,' he answered. ‘Nevertheless, I thought you were going to pulp me.'

‘Stay still then.'

Cassien grinned but knew what that reaction would mean. Sure enough, Murdo glanced at his companions.

‘Hold him,' he ordered.

Cassien felt his shoulders and arms clamped by Murdo's companions. ‘Ah, well done, Murdo, you've entirely outwitted me,' he said dryly. ‘Now, with your men bravely holding me down, you can beat me senseless.'

Murdo's grin faltered and his heavy-browed dark eyes became even more hooded as he frowned. ‘You're very cocky, given that you're outnumbered.'

Cassien's expression lost its amusement. ‘I don't like bullies, Murdo. They need the comfort and bravado of others around them to applaud, to laugh at their jokes, to make them feel like the chieftain they are son to but can't live up to.' The silence that greeted this remark was so thick it felt like a dead weight leaning on Cassien. Nevertheless, he continued to push this needle into Murdo's rapidly deflating ego. ‘I'm sure Metheven would be proud to see how far his son has fallen.'

Now the atmosphere of pure taunting turned in an instant to one of a storm gathering. Murdo's stare reflected nothing short of hate.

‘Do not dare to mention my father.' His voice sounded like stones grating against each other.

‘But I just did,' Cassien said, sounding deliberately breezy and glancing at his two minders.

Murdo walked away, momentarily perplexing Cassien until he saw in which direction the big man was headed. So, fists aren't enough, Cassien thought, and braced himself for what was coming. During Loup's painful ministrations, Cassien had learned how to shrink within himself — how to become so small and distant from the skin he lived in that he believed he became his spirit.

And that was when he'd first heard Romaine talking to him.
Follow me
, she'd said in his mind. He had let his mind wander and it had felt as though he had company within his own body.
You are wolf
, her voice said.
Come to where a wolf in your form pays homage to his kin
.

And within a blink he'd found himself standing in the great nave of the cathedral of Pearlis. He had visited the cathedral only once, as a lad with Brother Josse to discover his beast. Slowly he had walked down the nave,

waiting for one of the massive, beautiful sculpted creatures to call to him.

‘How will I know?' he'd asked Josse, wide-eyed with wonder.

‘You will know. Your heart will respond instantly.'

‘Which is yours, Brother Josse?'

‘I am Anguis.'

‘The lizard.'

‘Well done.'

‘What is his peculiarity?'

‘Anguis is known for his clarity of thought. The more sight I lose as I age, the more I become like the lizard who looks for the sun, and by that I mean, the more enlightenment I search for.'

‘You are always very wise, Brother Josse,' Cassien remembered himself replying and his elder had chuckled.

‘Find your beast, know yourself and your strengths,' he'd said. Josse had remained standing before Anguis while Cassien moved on.

Cassien had needed to walk almost the length of the nave before he'd felt his heart begin to race. At one moment it was beating at its normal rhythm and the next it had begun to pound. It had pounded so hard he thought it might tear right through the cage of bones that held it within his chest. And with this racing heart had come dizziness. He thought it was for Lupus. The wolf. Strong, quiet, cunning, proud, fast, loyal. But he was confused.

He'd been looking down when the strange sensations had all assaulted him at once but he'd looked up at the enormous stone head of another: ‘Dragon?' he'd whispered, confused, while warmth had suffused his body.

When Josse had arrived at his side and asked the inevitable, he had immediately replied ‘Lupus' because in truth he did feel a kinship toward the wolf. He had never returned to the cathedral again, other than in his mind — the first time with Romaine.
We are family now
, she had said, as she'd led him away from Loup's pain and he had found solace in the nave of the cathedral he could conjure in his mind's eye.

She never mentioned his creature. Never asked.

In this spiritual place he could endure Loup's punishments while sitting at the feet of Lupus. Never the Dragon, although he felt its pull. So it was to the huge form of Lupus that he fled in his mind now as Murdo walked back toward him holding a glowing iron.

‘I wish this had my family's sigil on its tip so I could burn it into your flesh for taking our name in vain,' he growled. ‘Now you will scream your penance to my father … to me.'

Cassien stared at him, the notion that Romaine walked alongside providing comfort. ‘You'll hear no sound of capitulation, or anything else, from me. You clearly feel that you are a disappointment to your father or you wouldn't be so touchy about me mentioning Metheven. I certainly took no-one's name in vain but if that's how you see it …' He shrugged.

Murdo's face darkened still further. ‘You really are a cocky bastard.'

‘I am a bastard, yes, but I simply say the truth.'

‘Stop talking or I'll close your mouth properly,' Murdo said, bringing the glowing white-hot tip close to Cassien's lips.

Cassien sensibly remained still but he refused to shrink back as the hot iron came closer. He met Murdo's angry gaze steadily, daring him to use the weapon.

Murdo did just that, lowering the iron before it cooled and touching it against the bared flesh of Cassien's upper chest, where it crackled and hissed, blackening and blistering the skin, laying it open raw. He smiled as he pressed on the iron, but faltered in surprise as Cassien's expression did not change. It was Murdo who flinched as if burned when he realised that Cassien was pushing back against the iron, defying Murdo further.

The Razor warrior ripped the iron back, tearing flesh and even then the newcomer to Orkyld showed no emotion, not even a spark in his eye of the pain he was surely experiencing. Murdo flung the iron and grabbed at Cassien's shirt.

‘What in hell's flames are you?' he growled into his face.

‘Your conscience.'

‘Take back what you said and I'll let you go.'

‘Words can't be removed.'

‘Then apologise,' Murdo yelled.

He shook his head. ‘Not for speaking the truth.'

‘Murdo!' came a new voice, breathy and angry. They all looked up to see Vivienne pushing into the barn with Ham at her side.

‘You stupid, stupid oaf. What have you done?' she shrieked, eyeing the seeping wound in Cassien's chest. ‘Aren't your big bludgeoning fists enough for you?'

Vivienne rushed towards them, but Murdo was now caught in his shame and he struck out as any cornered animal might. His backhanded blow connected horribly with Vivienne, who was sent tumbling backwards, her head knocking against a low beam. She crumpled like a half-empty sack of corn. Hamelyn was equally enraged and leapt onto Murdo's back, pulling at his hair and face, raining down ineffectual blows.

‘You're just a big, useless, drunken bully, Murdo,' he railed.

Murdo flicked him away and Hamelyn soon joined Vivienne on the floor. He wasn't stunned as she had been but he was nursing a bruised rib.

Murdo turned back to Cassien but was confronted by a new expression. Gone were the calmness and the almost mocking look. Now his features appeared shrouded in anger; his eyes seemed to lighten from dark green to yellow and in a heartbeat he'd shrugged off his surprised minders, twisting out of their loosened hold and bounding into space.

‘Oh, so now you want to fight, do you?' Murdo taunted.

‘Anyone who beats up women and children needs to be taught a lesson. And it won't be a fight.'

Murdo howled with contrived glee. ‘It won't be fair, I'll give you that.'

‘No, it won't. But you won't land a blow.'

Murdo grimaced. ‘Take your best shot, pretty boy.'

Cassien jumped into the air. No-one saw the terrible blow coming — least of all Murdo — as Cassien's foot shot out in a powerful, sweeping horizontal kick from head height that connected with Murdo's imposing chin. Murdo's head snapped helplessly to one side, exactly as Cassien had anticipated. He knew the force of the blow, the shock it imposed on the neck and the head, the air that was cut off within that terrible moment of impact, would all conspire to drop Murdo cold. As Cassien was leaping neatly back onto two feet, Murdo was already falling with his eyes rolling back into his head.

Murdo landed heavily as his body crashed, unconscious. His tongue lolled from the side of his mouth and was bleeding where he had bitten it during the impact. His companions looked on, shocked, at their leader's prone, lifeless-looking body.