Tamlyn (19 page)

‘You're wrong,' I snapped, but I feared she was right.
Too late, you've come too late, Silvermay
, I cursed again.

My sharp reply had shaken her and instead of telling me more, she began to plead. ‘You'll take me
back to my children, won't you? You won't leave me here. Coyle will kill me, and I won't be the first. It's terrible the things that go on down here.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Fighting, killing. Out there.' She pointed towards the pillars and the open expanses of the mine. ‘You will take me with you?'

‘All right, all right,' I said, to stop her wailing. ‘Tell me about the fighting.'

‘Poor wretches dragged down from the streets, like me. I'm luckier than they were, I suppose — he wanted me for a nursemaid. The men, they had to fight one another with swords, with their bare hands. I didn't see it, but I could hear them — the screams, the pitiful shouts for mercy. Then those monsters your man just killed were set loose on them and they were the worst sounds of all.'

She wept at the memories that would surely haunt her long after she was returned to her family.

‘And that little boy,' she said, nodding at Lucien who remained by the fire, ‘so young and yet he was made to watch it all. Each time another victim was dragged in, Lord Coyle would come for the boy like a father taking his son to the circus.'

The woman had no idea of the truth she had just spoken. I climbed to my feet, unable to bear listening to any more.

 

Beyond the fire, Coyle's two guards lay huddled against the far wall of the alcove. I didn't want to think about their fate once their master found his prize had been snatched from under their noses. Everything had gone better than we could have hoped for. Yes, there was still the return through a dark realm I would rather not think about, but with freedom waiting on the other side, and a journey to Erebis Felan beckoning once we'd slipped out of the city, I was eager to get started.

I wasn't the only one. Ryall watched me approach, his smile as wide as the alcove itself. He was ready to leave as soon as Tamlyn gave the word.

Geran was doing her bit to hurry things along. She had rinsed the blood from Tamlyn's precious sword and now held it reverently, the silver tip protruding between thumb and forefinger of her right hand.

‘You made this weapon yourself,' I heard her say to Tamlyn.

‘Yes, with a special purpose in mind. Its weight is designed for me alone.' And he took it from her like a child who doesn't want anyone else to play with his toys.

Another set of eyes was admiring the sword and the man who now slipped it onto his belt — Lucien's.
He was too young to understand what a brother was, but not too young, it seemed, to know he stood beside a great warrior.

‘You killed the dogs,' he said, in a voice as clear and confident as that of a child three times his size.

Geran dropped to one knee to study him more closely. ‘You are the one,' she said softly. ‘You are the reason we've come into this hell.'

I'd arrived at her side by this time and she turned to me. ‘I can feel the Wyrdborn in him, more strongly than I have ever known it. There's no doubt he is the child foretold by my people. To think that such destruction can come from one being, and he has begun so small, like any other human.' Her eyes ranged over him in a mixture of fascination and awe.

‘The mosaics are pictures on a wall; they are not the future,' I reminded her.

‘Of course,' she murmured and broke away from her study of Lucien.

Like me and Ryall, Geran was waiting for Tamlyn to give the word. It couldn't be long in coming now that he'd cleaned the dogs' blood from his arms and stood drying himself with a cloth he'd found by the fire.

‘Lucien,' I called to the little figure that watched his every move. ‘Come to me. I'm going to carry you back into the light.'

He turned towards me and seemed to recognise me for the first time since he'd said my name earlier. I saw a softness return to his eyes that had disappeared when he'd heard the dogs roaring their fury. He took a step in my direction, hesitated, then took another. I stretched out both arms towards him, smiling and he came to me and let me pick him up, his body no longer rigid. Yes, it would take a little while, after what Coyle had done to him, but he would be my boy again.

With his hands dry, Tamlyn stood in the mouth of the alcove, searching left and right, showing the caution of a good leader. But instead of calling to us to get moving, he turned back to Rosa and said, ‘How often does Coyle come to visit the boy?'

‘He's been six times — twice just to check that he was safe, and four times to watch the fighting.'

‘When was the last time?'

‘I can't say. It's difficult to tell when there's no sun to measure time.'

Tamlyn seemed frustrated by this answer. ‘Which direction does he come from?' he snapped in a voice that made the poor woman jump.

She pushed herself to her feet and joined him where he stood looking out into the forest of stone pillars, although she kept a distance, clearly frightened of him.
She knew he was a Wyrdborn and to her there was only one kind.

‘That way,' she said, pointing.

‘Tamlyn, shouldn't we start back as soon as we can?' I asked.

Geran agreed. ‘We should leave now!'

Ryall was happy to take this as an order and slipped past Tamlyn and into the gloom. Rosa wasn't slow to follow him, and the pair had reached the second row of pillars before they realised the rest of us hadn't moved.

‘What's the matter?' I demanded of Tamlyn. ‘You're holding us back. Why?'

‘You're right, Silvermay. No more delay. It's time you started back.'

‘Lead the way, then. Guide us safely home.'

‘You don't need me to find your way back. Geran can see you safely through the City of Lost Souls.'

I knew what he was planning; accepting it was another matter. ‘We came to find Lucien and we have succeeded, more easily than we could have hoped for.'

‘
You
came for Lucien,' he said calmly. ‘I came to find my father.'

‘You made a promise,' I reminded him.

‘And I've stood by that promise, Silvermay. The boy is in your arms, and if you do as I say, you'll soon have him out of here, out of Vonne and on his way to
Erebis Felan. I've played my part as I said I would. Now I go my own way.'

He would not look at me and there was shame in the way he stood.

‘Go,' he said. ‘The others are waiting. Take Lucien before Coyle comes to see what has enraged the dogs. Do you think I took so long to kill them because I enjoyed their torment?'

‘You wanted Coyle to hear their barking echoing along the tunnels.'

‘And he succeeded,' Geran said, staring out of the alcove towards the stone columns.

Two figures moved slowly between the pillars, making no attempt to remain hidden. The Wyrdborn didn't need to sneak up on their enemies, and I would know these two as Wyrdborn even if they'd been mere dots on the horizon. Tamlyn had been granted his wish, for striding towards us were his half-brother, Hallig, and their father, Coyle.

R
yall returned to the alcove, with Rosa scurrying at his heels. ‘The master himself. We're as good as dead,' she wailed.

I was more interested in Ryall's response. I doubted he had eyes for Coyle; it was the sight of Hallig that would have tensed every muscle in his body, for he was looking at his torturer, the man who had so badly injured his left arm and then left him for dead. Tamlyn wasn't the only one eager for revenge.

Coyle and Hallig were only twenty paces off now. They drew their swords, prompting Tamlyn to do the same.

‘Back into the alcove, all of you,' he said.

‘Tamlyn, no, they're too strong,' I called.

‘Take the baby out of Coyle's reach, Silvermay,'
said Geran and, drawing the sword from her belt, she stood shoulder to shoulder with Tamlyn.

‘What's this? The commonfolk think they can take on the Wyrdborn, do they? And a mere wisp of a fellow, too!'

It was Hallig who spoke so contemptuously, and no sooner had he finished than he launched himself at Geran, his sword swinging with enough force to cut ten men in half.

She leapt aside faster than my eyes could follow, leaving his sword to slice through nothing but air, and already her own blade was sweeping round towards him. If Hallig hadn't brought up his sword in defence, he would have suffered a painful gash to the side of his face. His sneer was gone now, replaced by wariness and confusion, and he backed away a few paces.

He quickly had a new problem to contend with — balls of fiery red were being lobbed towards him, making him dance first one way then the other. When one caught in the collar of his jacket, he howled in pain and used his free hand to brush it away. At first, I thought this was Geran's magic at work. But no, there was a simpler explanation. Ryall had dipped his iron hand into the fire and closed his fingers around the glowing embers. I watched as he flung more coals at Hallig, making him back away even further.

‘I knew there'd be an advantage to this hand one day,' Ryall called to me, holding it up as though he'd won a prize at the spring fair.

Tamlyn wasn't so easily impressed. ‘This is between Coyle and me,' he said, his eyes on his father and no one else. ‘Geran, take the others back the way we came in, the baby especially. He can't fall into Coyle's hands again.'

Even if I couldn't see Geran's face, I sensed her reluctance. But there could be only one commander if we hoped to survive and she signalled for the rest of us to come close. Making herself our shield, she edged into the open space beneath the pillars.

‘Don't let them leave,' said Coyle without taking his eyes from Tamlyn.

Hallig moved instantly, striding between the pillars until he stood in our way. Geran changed direction, with us at her back, but Hallig moved as well, blocking the path we must follow to reach the City of Lost Souls. Unless one or the other attacked, we were trapped in this odd stalemate. What now?

The answer was swift in coming. A ferocious clash of steel sent sparks bursting from behind one of the pillars and two figures emerged into view: Coyle on the charge, Tamlyn careful of his footing as he backed away.

The slightest flaw in the steel of Tamlyn's sword would have seen it shatter under Coyle's onslaught. Perhaps this was in Tamlyn's mind, too, that a sword made by his own unpractised hands might not be up to the job. But it withstood Coyle's attack and, with his workmanship proven, his confidence in the blade grew.

The two men came together, sword against sword, chest against chest. Then each pushed the other away with all the Wyrdborn force at his disposal, and with harrowing results. Each crashed into a pillar of stone, causing the ground to shake. From above came the sharp crack of fracturing rock and stones fell about them, followed by a shower of dust.

The fighters shook the powdery dust from their clothing and when he could see again through the pale clouds, Tamlyn slashed at his father. He wasn't quite fast enough and had to duck to avoid a savage swipe in return. Coyle's sword slammed into another pillar, shaking more rocks free.

‘Tamlyn will kill him,' said Ryall beside me.

‘I just want him to stay alive.'

‘But Coyle tried to kill you, Silvermay. Don't you want revenge?'

‘Me! I have no weapon that can hurt him.'

‘Except what you hold in your hands,' said Ryall, nodding at Lucien.

My heart sank. Even Ryall saw Lucien as a weapon more than a little boy. I hugged the child's warm flesh more tightly, as though to ward off such a fate, but he didn't like being squeezed and pushed my arms away. Through it all, he didn't take his eyes off the clash of swords and I sensed his fascination, as though the fearsome spectacle excited him.

I moved quickly behind the nearest pillar and pressed my back against the stone.

‘Not here, out there,' he complained, pointing to where we'd been standing.

‘We're safer here.'

‘But I want to see the fighting.'

While we argued, the battle became more intense. Again, someone thundered into a column of stone and this time the splintering sounds were more ominous. Great chunks of rock, big enough to crush my skull, fell from the roof. Thank the gods, they thudded into the ground well away from us, but who could tell where others might rain down. I bent my head and shoulders over Lucien in the only protection I could offer him.

This was the last thing he wanted from me. He squirmed and kicked in my arms. ‘Let me go, Silvermay.'

‘No, it's better to stay here out of the way,' and I tightened my grip.

Almost immediately, I felt my arms pushed outwards, forcing me to release Lucien. I locked my hand over my wrist, but my hold burst open, as though little Lucien was growing larger. As soon as he slipped to the ground, free, the odd pressure disappeared and my arms slapped together so suddenly that I cried out in fright. The little rascal had used dark magic on me. The shock left me unable to think for a moment and he took this chance to run out from behind the pillar.

‘Lucien,' I called after him.

With my muscles working properly once more, I swept round the corner only to find he'd come to a halt not far away, his eyes riveted on the fighting. He sensed me behind him and ran off again, like a naughty child. He
was
a naughty child, but one who could overpower any adult who tried to restrain him. Ignoring the clash of steel against steel, I followed him along the line of pillars until he stopped again, halfway between me and Coyle Strongbow, only twenty paces away. Coyle, his back against a pillar, his chest heaving with the effort of battle, hadn't noticed us yet. If we stayed perfectly still, he might not look this way.

As I waited, pleading with the gods that he would move off before he spotted us, it struck me that I had never seen such an expression on Coyle's face. Even
when pretending to be Miston Dessar, he had exuded supreme confidence. That look was gone now and I knew in that instant that he was losing the battle against his son.

Tamlyn appeared between the pillars, his jerkin shredded where he'd scraped against solid stone, the rest of his body showing the nicks and bruises of where he had clashed with Coyle. Yet he seemed light on his feet still and, despite the heaving of his chest, had enough breath for words.

‘Do you see my sword, Father?' he called. ‘Made with my own hands. Take it from me and you can kill me here and now.'

‘You're a fool to fight with such a weapon and a bigger fool to tell me so,' said Coyle.

‘Perhaps, but it's the tip of my sword that should interest you. Do you see it is silver rather than steel? It is forged from the ring you thought a servant had stolen, because even your suspicious mind couldn't imagine what use your wife might have for it. Well, here it is, Father, on the point of the sword that will kill you as surely as you murdered Ezeldi.'

Now I saw fear in Coyle's face, the first time it had ever darkened his features, I was sure. He looked old, diminished, and his haggard eyes did not move from Tamlyn's sword.

‘Hallig! Leave the others. Come here to me,' he shouted.

I heard footsteps, running, and a shriek across the vast space: ‘No, don't leave me here!'

It was Rosa, and moments later I saw why: with Hallig had come Geran, to stand at Tamlyn's side. Single combat had become two against two.

‘Fight,' said a tiny voice.

I had almost forgotten Lucien. He had certainly forgotten me. He was enjoying the struggle, as he'd been taught to do by his heartless father. And with his command for the battle to recommence, he had brought himself to Coyle's attention.

Coyle was only ten paces away. If he was willing to risk it, he could snatch up Lucien before Tamlyn could stop him and dart away through the great columns of stone, back to his cellar and into the house above. Lucien would be lost to me. But only if Coyle dared to lay himself open to Tamlyn's deadly sword.

Then I realised there was another way, and he saw it just as I did.

‘Lucien,' he called. ‘Come to me.'

‘No,' I shouted, making Lucien turn his head. ‘Come to me, my darling.'

I dropped to one knee, arms outstretched for him to run into their warmth if that was what he chose.
It was a risk: he had rejected that same warmth only minutes before. But it was all I had to offer him and to pretend otherwise would be an empty trick.

Coyle raised his sword, showing it to Lucien, as though it was a prize for the taking.

To my horror, it was towards the sword that Lucien took his first step. He took another, then stopped and turned to face me. He was torn between us, there was no doubt. The shimmering metal had attracted him to begin with, yet somewhere inside him a childish voice must have cried no. His head swivelled again to take in Coyle.

‘You are my son,' the fiend called, and this drew Lucien another step closer.

I couldn't claim to be Lucien's mother. I had only the truth to give him.

‘Come to me, Lucien, and I will make you happy in a way the Wyrdborn never are.'

When Lucien turned away from his father, Coyle lost patience. ‘Quiet, girl, let the boy come to me!' he roared, and while his words still echoed from every wall and pillar, he picked up a rock the size of a man and sent it hurtling towards me.

Was it the quick wits my father had given me or simply instinct that sent me diving headlong to the left? Even then, the rock brushed my foot in midair, but at
least I wasn't crushed against the pillar behind me as Coyle had intended.

I crawled away on my hands and knees, out of his line of sight, and as I moved, I heard a terrible crack tear through the air. Fragments fell around us, dust and tiny stones like before, and then the pillar that had taken the full force of Coyle's missile gave way, breaking into massive chunks that smashed against one another as they collapsed. They toppled sideways into other columns around them and rocks began breaking loose everywhere now, huge boulders that shook the ground like a giant's fists. Amid the turmoil I heard Rosa's scream — or was it my own?

Lucien! He was vulnerable, alone. I looked up and there he was, running in fright beside a row of pillars that took him away from Tamlyn, away from me. Worse still, Coyle had gone after him. He would surely get to him first.

We had to stop Coyle from scooping up my little boy and escaping with him back into his stronghold. That was all that mattered.

I pushed myself up on my arms, bringing my legs underneath me to stand upright. One leg moved, but not the other. I tugged once, twice, but it was no use. When I looked behind me, I saw that my ankle was jammed between two fallen rocks that must have rolled
together after they had hit the ground. That was why I'd cried out.

I pulled hard to free my foot and felt pain spread through the rest of me. I was stuck fast.

‘Lucien!' I shouted. I couldn't go after him. Couldn't dodge the rocks that continued to fall. One landed only a foot from my head. I was a sitting duck! I writhed left and right, hoping a different angle might release my foot. No use.

‘Help me,' I cried when a fresh shower of stones fell across my trapped leg.

Tamlyn heard me call, he saw the rocks that held me fast, and then he was gone, gleaming sword in hand, after Coyle.

The entire roof of the cavern seemed ready to fall and I had no way to escape to a safer part of the mine. I would be crushed to a bloody pulp unless I could get my leg free, but the harder I fought the more firmly I became wedged. Dust and falling debris choked the lamps that remained and soon I couldn't even see my trapped leg. It was as though my tomb had been sealed over and all that remained was for me to die.

The rocks squeezed harder around my foot, as though extra weight had been added. I cried out in pain and wondered how long I would last before a boulder plunged through the darkness to finish me off.
Suddenly the pain lessened to hardly more than a throb and I found I could move at last. Somehow I'd been released.

Before I could take advantage of my freedom, I felt myself lifted off the ground, first my shoulders and then my legs. I was being carried. Moments later, I was on the ground again and someone was pushing me.

‘Move in as far as you can go,' said a voice.

‘Ryall!'

‘Hurry,' he shouted in my ear.

Still unable to see, I tried to sit up, only to bang my head hard on something directly above. It could only be more rock.

‘Squeeze up, damn it,' said Ryall.

I did as he demanded, and from the grunts and groans coming from close by, I guessed there was another body pressing into this odd space.

‘Tamlyn?' I asked.

‘He's gone after Coyle,' said Geran.

She had barely spoken these words when the world around us turned to thunder. The shock of the roof collapsing threw us against one another and assaulted our ears. A crash directly above made us jump, but the rock that protected us held out against it and, as quickly as it had begun, the rumbling ceased.