The Iron Ghost (57 page)

This time when Wydrin offered the bottle, Xinian took it.

‘When it came out – the things he had done, the extent of the evil, the number of people tortured to death in his pursuit of power – there were still plenty of people who refused to believe it. Not Joah Lightbringer, our shining golden example. But he’d been travelling a long time, away from our temples in Creos and Whittenfarne, and when he came back, the madness was in him like a fever. The elders could deny it no longer.’

‘And you were sent to kill him?’

Xinian tipped her head to one side. ‘I was their greatest warrior. I had led armies, won battles for them. I had faced demons before, too, terrible beings that boiled up from beneath the earth at places that were suffused with Edeian. Mostly they were stupid creatures, too ruled by their own appetites and easily defeated. By that point, even the Edenier of the elders couldn’t touch Joah, and they knew it would have to be an assassination, an act of violence that would bring him to an end.’

‘And you had the sword.’

Xinian nodded, and some of the cold slipped from her face. ‘My lover made that sword,’ she said. ‘Selsye was a skilled Edeian crafter, unrivalled save for Joah Demonsworn himself. She took a scale from Y’Ruen and forged it into the only weapon capable of killing a creature such as Joah. And it worked, too. I cut him down.’ Her hand tightened around the neck of the bottle convulsively. ‘I killed him. But not in time to save Selsye.’

‘I am sorry,’ said Wydrin after a few moments. ‘That must have been hard.’

‘Hard?’ Xinian shot her a fiery look. ‘Selsye was my heart and soul. She was the very bones of me. When I saw her fall, it broke me into a thousand pieces. I was glad to die then, and if I took Joah Demonsworn with me, then that was all to the good.’

Wydrin swallowed, and looked into the fire. It was easier than looking at the pain on Xinian’s face.

‘Wouldn’t it have been better,’ she said hesitantly, ‘not to have loved? To save yourself from that pain?’

To her surprise Xinian laughed, although there was still a great deal of sadness in the sound. She passed the bottle back.

‘Foolish child. Without Selsye and her love, I never would have made it at all. To suffer the sweetest joy and the greatest agony is preferable to a life lived apart from love. Joah may be back again, but I saved Ede from at least a thousand years of his evil, and without Selsye I would have died years before, having achieved nothing. Our short time together was the glory of my life, and I do not regret it. I cannot.’

Wydrin said nothing. Xinian looked at her, her gaze shrewd and thoughtful.

‘Love is the forge that transforms us into who we are,’ she said. ‘To avoid that is to hide from life, child. But you are very young, and I think we have had enough tales of ancient Ede for one night.’

‘I think you’re right,’ said Wydrin, not quite looking at the mage. ‘If it’s remotely possible, I’m going to try and get some sleep.’ She put the bottle down on the floor. It would not do to wake up with another hangover. ‘Things will look better in the morning.’

‘You certainly have a lucky sweetheart, sir. Or do you have more than one on the go? A dangerous life that, no doubt, but with its own rewards.’

Frith gave the merchant a sharp look, and the man quickly shut his mouth, taking his money and saying no more about it. The handful of cheap silver baubles were swept into a small hessian sack, and Frith took it from him, nodding once before heading off into the market. He paused at another stall to buy food, water and wine, and then he left, glancing up at the sky as he did so. It was midday, and it would be unpleasantly hot in the cramped room he was renting, but he had given the landlord enough coin for him to be left to his own devices for as long as he needed solitude, and there was still so much work to be done.

A sweetheart, indeed. Frith hefted the sack in his hand, briefly imagining another life where he had brought Wydrin trinkets and jewellery, a life where he had chosen to pursue what he truly wanted, instead of adhering to the traditions left to him by his dead family. Would it have made any difference?

Back inside the sweltering room, he opened the shutters on the windows and emptied the paltry pieces of silver jewellery into the smelting bowl he’d acquired, taking a moment to pry free the various gemstones set into the metal. All were glass save for one tiny chip of emerald, which he slipped into his own pocket, and then he summoned the word for Heat, focussing it down into a fine point. Within a few minutes the confusion of jewellery in the bowl had melted down into a slop of malleable silver, ready to be formed into whatever shape he wished.

He paused, taking a swig from the skin of wine he’d purchased. The Edenier trap sat on the single table in the room, still half finished and seeming to draw darkness around it. There were a great many parts missing, and those he would have to replace himself and as quickly as possible. Originally, he knew that Joah had not intended the device to have any parts made of silver, but it was easier to work with and faster to imprint with the magical symbols.

Using multiple words in tandem as Joah had taught him, Frith lifted the liquid metal from the bowl with his mind and turned it over, moulding it and stretching it until it met his needs. When he had the shape he wanted, he summoned the demon’s symbols and sank them into the metal. There was a moment of pressure, as if the metal itself was resisting, and then with a hiss they appeared, stark and somehow unappealing. Frith moved the metal over to the table, gently dousing it with the word for Cold until it had hardened sufficiently, and then with a delicate touch he slid it into the waiting slot within the Edenier trap. He felt a flicker in the magic as the spells within the device adjusted for this new piece. It was getting closer.

Frith let out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding, and sat for a few moments staring at nothing. There was a purity to this that he could almost understand; just him and the creation of something new. No distractions, nothing between him and it. And after all, at this point, what else did he have? An empty castle populated by people who served him out of loyalty to his father. A potential bride who didn’t know him, and was in truth only interested in the expansion of her own lands. A graveyard filled with his family, and a lot of regrets. The memory of flying on the back of a griffin, his arms around Wydrin’s waist and her laughter in his ear.

Soon, he would leave this place with the Edenier trap, and he would take it to Joah. He thought that the mage might be pleased, on some level, that Frith had completed something he had not been able to; of all the things Joah was, he was a generous man.
He wanted me to be his brother
, thought Frith.
Would things have been different if I’d accepted that offer?
He would show him the trap, and then he would set it off, and that would be the end of that. Joah Demonsworn would lose the magic that had driven him since his birth, and perhaps Sebastian would be able to kill him. Perhaps he wouldn’t. Frith found it difficult to care – he would likely be dead either way.

Methodically he unpacked the bread and cheese he’d bought from the market and began to eat it, still staring at the Edenier trap. It wouldn’t be long now. Not long at all.

Sebastian stood in the small clearing, trying not to give in to despair. It hadn’t taken them long to find the place, but it was obviously too long to be of any use; the rocky pieces of Mendrick’s body lay in the mud, already partially covered in snow, and Nuava’s meagre belongings had been trodden into the dirt. The fire was cold ashes, and everywhere there were signs of violence, which the brood sisters only confirmed for him with their keener senses.

‘Someone fled this way,’ said Ephemeral, pointing to where the trees were thickest. She held Prince Dallen’s token, the carved bear tooth, in one clawed hand. It was how they’d found his scent. ‘And they were pursued by men who carry a similar smell to the prince.’

‘Nuava Nox,’ said Sebastian. His mouth felt numb. ‘She was a young woman who managed to escape the city when Joah arrived. The Narhl must have taken them by surprise, and they would have had larger numbers.’ He paused. ‘We should not have left them alone.’

‘The other group went this way,’ said Havoc. She was standing at the far side of the clearing, looking off into the trees with keen interest. ‘They took the prince with them, and he was bleeding.’

‘We will find them, Father,’ said Ephemeral. ‘The scent is clear from here.’

Sebastian swallowed hard, looking at the remains of Mendrick. ‘Then we should move fast.’ He remembered the shifting red light that had been all Frith could see with the Seeing spell. ‘We’ll have to assume they caught Nuava. The Narhl have no love for the Skalds, but there is a chance they may have been more lenient with one of their own.’

They set off through the woods, heading north-west and gradually upwards, until the trees grew scarcer and the air grew steadily chillier. Here and there Sebastian would spot signs of their passage himself – broken branches, footprints – and he knew they were on the right track.

The trees dropped away entirely, and soon they were in the rocky mountain country Sebastian recognised from their trek with Dallen and his soldiers. He pulled up the hood of his cloak as the sun set, and they kept marching steadily; it took a lot to tire the brood sisters, and Sebastian let his own anxiety keep his feet moving. Night fell like an icy blade, revealing a blanket of stars and a strange shifting emerald glow in the sky to the far north. Hours passed, and dawn was still a distant wish when Ephemeral dropped back from leading the group and gently took hold of Sebastian’s arm.

‘The scent is fresher here,’ she said. ‘I believe our prey have made camp ahead of us.’

‘I wouldn’t call them prey, Ephemeral,’ said Sebastian, but he looked where she pointed. The land rose steeply here, bare rock starting to push through the earth, and on a plateau ahead of them was a circle of weathered stone statues, each as tall as a man. It was too dark to see what they depicted. There was movement beyond the stone, and a pale blue glow – cold-lights instead of camp fires – although he could make out very little else. ‘Tell your sisters to wait for the moment, and let’s see if we can get closer.’

Sebastian and Ephemeral broke off from the main group and, making use of the uneven ground, made their way towards the statues at an angle, always crouching low, moving swiftly. In the past the brood army had had very little use for stealth, but they had taken to the concept easily enough, and now Ephemeral moved nearly silently across the rocks and snow. When they were close enough to see the men and women camped within the circle of statues they stopped, crouching motionless in a dip in the ground.

‘They will have posted sentries,’ he murmured. ‘We must be cautious.’

Now that they were closer he could see around fifty men and women, some lying on the rocky ground and sleeping, others sitting and standing, talking and passing around food and drink. The statues were little more than grey ghosts in that light, and curled around the bottoms of them – Sebastian blinked rapidly. There were wyverns here, four that he could see, sinuous and sleek, and at rest now. He saw a woman come over to one of them and adjust one of the thick leather straps that was bound around its head, and the long lizard snout opened and closed briefly, revealing a long, purple tongue.

‘What is that?’ Ephemeral was so surprised she spoke out loud.

‘They are like dragons, but not really,’ Sebastian whispered. ‘A distant relation, perhaps.’ He remembered riding the sea-wyvern out to the Judgement of Res’ni, powerful muscles surging through the water. ‘I’m not sure how much they have in common with your . . . mother.’

‘I can feel them,’ whispered Ephemeral back. ‘So alive! Can you feel them, Father?’

Sebastian shook his head, although he
could
feel them – a silvery thread, a sharp lizard keenness. He pushed the thought away and tried to read the movements of the Narhl soldiers, looking for clues. A group of five were standing over on one side of the statues, and they looked like they were having an animated discussion of some sort. One of the women stood motionless, a spear held stiffly to one side, all her attention on the man doing most of the talking. He was broad across the chest and his white and grey beard was thick with lichen. King Aristees. His great double-headed axe sat at his feet
.

Sebastian pursed his lips, considering. Dallen’s father was here, so perhaps the danger to the prince wasn’t quite as dire as he feared. Yes, he had been exiled and disowned, thrown out of his home, but surely his own father would stop short of spilling family blood? Then he remembered the curl of the old man’s lip when he’d looked from Dallen to Sebastian, guessing a link between them that had yet to be forged. And guessing it accurately. There was a man who knew his son, and he had leapt at the chance to be rid of him. What would he do now he had him back?

There was a flurry of movement from the centre of the camp. A man was dragged to his feet, his bruised face lit in cold white light. Sebastian clenched his fists at his sides.

‘That is him,’ whispered Ephemeral.

The guards dragged Prince Dallen around the camp, forcing him to walk the circumference of the statues. His father watched, shouting encouragement. Prince Dallen stumbled once or twice, and the soldiers jostled him to his feet once more. They were keeping him from truly resting.

Well, I am here now.
Absently, his hand slipped into his pocket and touched the blue glass globe Crowleo had given him.
I could walk up there and negotiate his release. There must be something I could trade, a deal I could propose. No one has to die here.

But, instead, he took his hand away from the globe and grasped the hilt of his sword. There was a quickening in his blood, a silvery thread that demanded the satisfaction of the hunt.

‘Your sisters,’ he said to Ephemeral, his voice barely more than a whisper, while he kept his eyes on Prince Dallen, ‘and you, Ephemeral. I will not order you to do this. I will not order you to help me.’