The Copper Promise (12 page)

‘Sebastian!’

She scrambled to her feet. They were near a narrow ditch, fringed with ferns and squat bushes. A wave of dizziness caused her to stagger, and she spotted Frith lying off to one side, his white hair in disarray and his clothes still damp from the lake. He was rubbing his eyes with trembling hands. Sebastian lay on his front, some distance from the pair of them. He wasn’t moving.

She ran to his side and pulled him round to face her. The violence of their journey had removed the dagger, but his body felt boneless, and too heavy.

‘Wake up!’ She shook him by the shoulders. ‘We’re out of there now. We’re out of the Citadel!’

‘That will not help him.’

Frith appeared at her shoulder. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek. Wydrin narrowed her eyes and punched him hard in the face. Frith went flying backwards into the mud.

‘You!’ She dropped Sebastian and went after Frith, her fists tingling. ‘You let him die!’

‘Wait.’ There was blood running from his lip. He held up a hand to ward her off. ‘I know how to help him.’

Wydrin pulled Frostling from its scabbard. ‘Your lies won’t save that pretty throat of yours now, princeling.’

‘The mages, there must be a healing spell, don’t you see?’ Frith got to his feet warily, watching the blade. ‘Let me try, at least. If I cannot do it, then you can still cut my throat.’

Wydrin paused, anger giving way to hope. Sebastian would have advised caution, would have told her to calm down and give the princeling a chance. Stupid Sebastian. Reluctantly, she sheathed the dagger.

‘Go on, then,’ she said, trying not to let the fear show in her voice. ‘But I hope your mage’s tricks are effective, for your sake.’

Frith went to Sebastian’s side without looking at her, and took the big knight’s head between his hands.

‘See if you can open his eyes,’ he said in a low voice.

Wydrin did as he instructed, although her stomach turned over anew when she pulled Sebastian’s eyelids up and saw the lifeless gaze they shielded. His blue eyes looked black in what little light there was.

‘Good,’ said Frith. He undid the straps that held Sebastian’s chainmail in place and pulled back the fleece beneath until the wound was revealed. The cut was small but deep, the skin there saturated with blood. Pressing his fingers against the wound, Frith bent his head as if in prayer.

‘What are you saying?’ asked Wydrin.

He spared her an angry glance.

‘I’m not saying anything, fool. Be quiet and let me think.’

Wydrin briefly considered punching him again, but decided to let him do his work. After a few moments, during which it seemed to Wydrin that the forest grew unnaturally quiet, a soft rose light grew from the spaces between Frith’s fingers. It crawled over Sebastian’s bare chest like honey, and Wydrin saw the edges of the wound begin to close up.

‘It’s working,’ she said, but Frith paid her no attention. He was sweating now, she saw, long strands of his thin white hair sticking to his forehead with it, and he was trembling all over. The pink light grew under his hands until it was so bright Wydrin could barely look at it.

‘It’s difficult to control …’ he said, although Wydrin didn’t think he was talking to her. ‘I don’t remember. It’s different.’

After a few minutes the light began to throb rhythmically, and his eyes widened in surprise.

‘There!’ he gasped. Lifting his hands up from the wound the skin was smooth again. Sebastian jerked violently and started coughing, while Frith looked down at his hands in wonder.

His eyes met Wydrin’s, and the smallest of smiles touched his lips.

‘I could feel it rising up inside me, like a vast tide. Like the lake.’ His voice became distant, as though he were walking away from her down a long tunnel. ‘I think …’ And with that his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell backwards into the mud for a second time. After a few moments Sebastian sat up, rubbing his head. He looked down at his blood-soaked clothes, and then to the prone form next to him.

‘What happened to Lord Frith?’ he asked, his voice little more than a croak.

Wydrin sighed.

‘The princeling is so overcome with joy at your recovery he has, in fact, passed out at your feet.’ She paused, and punched Sebastian lightly on the arm. ‘It is good to see you up and about, though. Want to help me figure out where we are?’

‘You’ve done what?’

They were sitting around a small fire, huddling close to the flames. It had taken a while to get it going, with Wydrin cursing the damp forest in a colourful manner for many minutes, until, finally, a few weak flames had shown against the all-too-green branches they had gathered together. Sebastian had helped as best he could, despite Wydrin’s insistence that he sit still and gather his strength. In truth, he felt as well as he ever had. The terrible burning pain he had been dimly aware of since Gallo had stabbed him had completely gone, and even the aches and pains he might have expected to feel after the fight with the Culoss were not there.

‘Where else would you propose we go?’ said Frith. Now he was awake he appeared to be in a foul mood. Sebastian suspected he was embarrassed by his fainting fit. ‘Returning to Litvania was my goal all along.’

‘So you threw us back into the middle of this godforsaken wood? Wouldn’t your big cosy castle have been a little more useful?’ Wydrin snorted and poked at the fire with a stick. Frith glowered at her.

‘This is not an exact science. I don’t know if you recall, but we were rather in danger of being eaten by an enormous dragon at the time.’

‘Yes, about that,’ said Sebastian. ‘What do you propose we do about it?’

He watched Frith and Wydrin exchange a look, their bickering temporarily forgotten.

‘Do?’ asked Frith. ‘What do you mean?’

Sebastian looked up at the sky. It was full dark now, and the stars were largely obscured by clouds, but here and there he could see a pinprick of light. They made him think of eyes, watching them.

‘We unleashed a
monster
.’ He met Frith’s gaze, and then Wydrin’s, who was watching him carefully. ‘Worse than that, an entire army of monsters. It’s our
fault
. We have to go back and stop it. What do you suppose happened to Krete after we left? To the people that live there?’

‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ said Frith. There was a new chill to his voice and Sebastian realised he would get little help in that direction. ‘The City Guard will deal with it, I expect. Either way, my concerns lie here, in this forest. My castle is still in the hands of the People’s Republic of Istria, and now that I have the means’ – he held up his hands as if they might explode at any moment – ‘I intend to take it back. What you two do is of no concern to me. Go back to Creos, if you wish, and enjoy slaying your dragon.’

‘He’s got a point, Seb,’ said Wydrin. ‘We are … what, a thousand leagues from Creos now? More than that, probably. What can we do? Besides,’ she turned back to Frith and kicked his boot, ‘the princeling here still owes us money. As far as I’m concerned, the job is done.’

Frith scowled.

‘Once I have my castle back you will have your coin, wench.’

Sebastian bit down a protest, turning a hot chestnut over in his fingers. They had told him what had happened while he’d been unconscious, sharing the details of the lake under the Citadel and the last desperate stand of Wydrin and the Culoss against the scaled warriors (at which point Wydrin had shared her opinion on Frith’s actions in long and withering detail), and they had told him of the dragon that crawled out of the ruins of the Citadel afterwards; even Frith had seemed awed by it, shaking his head slowly as he described the creature’s eyes of boiling yellow fire. What Sebastian couldn’t tell them was how
he knew all this already
. He’d felt the movement of the scaled soldiers in his own blood, felt the rise of the creature called Y’Ruen into the sunlight for the first time in millennia. If he closed his eyes for more than a few seconds he could almost see them; the shining crystal of their swords streaked with blood, the skies over Creos a baleful orange as everything burned. Y’Ruen had to be stopped, but Wydrin was right.
How?

She and Frith were arguing again. He dragged his attention back to the fire with effort.

‘… how you expect to do that, anyway?’

‘You have seen what I am capable of,’ spat Frith. ‘I destroyed the Citadel.’

‘I’m assuming that’s not what you want to do with your castle?’ replied Wydrin, grinning wickedly. ‘Be a bit of a wasted effort, really.’

‘I don’t need to discuss my plans with the likes of you.’

‘Besides, are you really sure it’s worth it?’ Wydrin gestured to the black trees rising around them like sentinels. A bitter cold had come with the night and now tendrils of mist were swirling around the trunks, like cautious ghosts come to inspect the visitors.

‘And what do you mean by that?’

‘Well, you know –’ Wydrin shrugged, and picked at the blood drying in her hair. ‘It’s a bit, you know. Lots of trees, which is nice, if you like trees. Big, solid-looking trees. But that’s about it. If I were you, I’d write it off as a loss and go and find something more interesting to do. Crosshaven is always looking for enterprising men with money in their pockets and a talent for destruction.’

Frith glared at her. He stood up abruptly, his white hair falling over his forehead and obscuring the outrage in his eyes.

‘I’m going for a walk.’ And with that he stalked off between the trees, his shoulders as narrow as a knife blade.

Wydrin caught Sebastian’s eye, a look of polite astonishment on her face that soon disintegrated into laughter. Despite himself, Sebastian joined her.

‘You’ve done it now.’

‘Oh, well, it’s the least he deserves.’ The mirth faded and her face became serious again. ‘He really would have left you to die, Seb. Me as well, although I’m not saying I couldn’t have fought my way through those pointy-toothed devils.’

‘Perhaps he had a plan all along,’ said Sebastian, although he didn’t really believe that. ‘And I suspect that split lip of his is your doing?’

Wydrin tipped her head to one side.

‘Like I said, it’s the least he deserves.’

‘Either way, he shouldn’t be out in that by himself.’ Sebastian nodded towards the trees where he had vanished. The dark had closed over the young lord like a curtain. ‘The Blackwood isn’t the friendliest of forests. Wolves, bears. There will be all sorts of predators out here.’

‘Aye, I’ll go after him.’ Wydrin stood up, and when she saw the look of surprise on Sebastian’s face she shrugged. ‘He still owes us money, remember? I’m not having him eaten by a wolf before he gets to that castle of his.’

‘Wydrin,’ Sebastian smiled; it felt strange on his face, but not unwelcome, ‘your taste in men is perpetually disastrous.’

‘No worse than yours.’

She made a face at him and sauntered off into the trees.

Frith was stalking about some distance from the fire, just beyond its soft circle of light. His white hair shone under the moonlight like a beacon. From his stiff-legged stride and hunched shoulders, Wydrin could tell he was sulking. She’d seen her own brother in that pose often enough.

‘Watch where you’re going, princeling!’ she called after him. ‘Sebastian says there are animals in this forest that would consider even your scrawny hide a tasty meal.’

Frith glowered at her as she approached.

‘What do you want?’

‘Just to make sure you’re not thinking of doing anything stupid. You still owe us quite a bit of coin, you know.’

‘You’ll get your money, sell-sword.’ He spat the word.

Once her eyes were adjusted to the gloom she could see the sharp angles of his face bathed in the glow of the distant fire. He really is quite comely, she thought, despite the hair
.

‘They have taken everything from me,’ said Frith suddenly. He wasn’t looking at her; instead he was staring off into the dark as though his enemies were hiding between the trees. ‘My family, my home. Everything we’d ever owned, it’s all gone. They dragged me out of the dungeon once, you know, and took me up into the courtyard. The Lady Bethan insisted that I be washed, as I was stinking up
her
castle.’ He snorted. ‘They threw buckets of water over me while there was still ice on the ground, and as I lay there shivering in the dirt I saw that they’d hung our servants from the walls. Every one of them. Their faces were all purple. Men and women who’d known me since I was born …’ His voice trailed off.

Frith hadn’t told them much about what had driven him from his home, but it wasn’t difficult to work out that it hadn’t been pleasant. As Sebastian pointed out to her between pints of ale, as long as they got paid, it didn’t matter that Lord Frith wanted to keep the details to himself. But Wydrin was curious by nature, and tactless by choice.

‘Why did they do it?’

Frith glared at her for a few seconds before he answered.

‘Why do thieves do anything? To take what isn’t theirs, to ruin the lives of others.’ He gestured around at the crowded darkness. ‘The Friths have always been part of the Blackwood. It’s been our home for as long as anyone can remember. They used to say that if you cut a Frith they would bleed as much sap as blood. We have always been here.’

‘Was it an old enemy?’

Frith shook his head.

‘There were rumours that a group of mercenaries had crossed the border from Istria, and perhaps if my father had taken more notice …’ Frith shook his head, as if completing the sentence was futile. ‘My brother Tristan was nine years old. I don’t even know what they did with his body.’

Wydrin found she didn’t know what to say. She also found that she was feeling a little guilty for punching Frith in the mouth, and she didn’t like that at all.

‘Listen,’ she said, scratching the back of her head. Her hair felt caked with dirt. ‘You saved Sebastian. It was your fault that he was in that state in the first place and you would have left us both for dead, and it was only lucky that the lake worked at all and –’ she took a deep breath – ‘what I mean to say is, thank you. For saving Sebastian. You brought him back and I’m grateful for that.’