SWNOVELS Soulblade: Chapter 9
I HEAR SHOUTS FROM outside as one of the boys calls from his lookout post at the window.
“I see them! They are coming!”
Marin follows his sightline, his face grim. He draws his father’s sword.
“Rian, tell your people to arm themselves with brands from the fire. Stay inside and only fight if the raiders get inside the house. We will hold them off in the street.”
Rian nods acceptance and takes a fiery brand from the fire. She stands with it by the doorway as we leave.
I follow Marin through the slashing rain, watching the red flames from Rian’s crude weapon reflecting on the blade of the great sword in his hand. He heads directly for the dark shapes approaching from the far end of the street. I draw crysteel and hurry beside him, splashing through the slick mud to keep pace with his long determined strides.
There are at least a dozen bandits. Rapathian deserters most likely if the dirty shreds of black and red clothing are anything to go by. I focus on the thug trying to outflank me on my right, a heavy Rapathian broadsword grasped in both hands.
The instant he gets in range, he swings the blade in a wide arc intended to take off my head. I drop to a crouch and hear it whistling a few inches above me as I take advantage of the way it turns his left side, leaving him open to a swift thrust into the weak spot under the armpit. He drops like a sack of potatoes into the muddy street.
Heavy footsteps behind me force me into a swift turn to face a tall, gaunt deserter thrusting a pike straight at me. I dance back, circling, working out how to get past his longer reach with the ugly weapon. Then his eyes glaze and he falls forward over the shaft with Marin’s blade in his neck.
We move closer, turning warily in unison now, as more raiders emerge from the shadowy trees at the edge of the village and encircle us. I start to wonder uneasily what has happened to Deris and the other two. These undisciplined, half-starved attackers have little stamina and without the accustomed army commander at their backs they have no sense of teamwork. Nevertheless, their desperation and sheer numbers are a force to be reckoned with as more of them run forward from the cover of the surrounding forest. As the bodies pile up, Marin and I are being pressed back against the crumbling wall of one of the barns.
At last I see Deris cutting his way through the pouring rain and clash of weapons to reach us, Nem and Brac following close behind. I notice the confident way they move together, guarding each other’s backs as they cut a swathe through the press of bodies. It brings a flood of relief to my aching shoulders.
I catch the brief moment when the three of them weigh up our situation, before a quick nod of communication between them sends Brac and Nem to flank Marin by the stone wall. Deris beats the nearest bandit out of his path with a cut across the throat and then he is at my side, his green eyes fierce from the fight.
“Focus on your Soulblade and we’ll get through this.”
I have no idea what he means but his words take me back to that moment at Maratic when the crysteel blades seemed to come to life in my hands… and now the words of the oath are echoing in my head.
To defend the weak and helpless.
I catch a glimpse of Rian peering out of the house for a brief moment before retreating inside again and slamming the door behind her. Yes. Defending her people is what we are all pledged to do.
The brush of Deris’ arm touches my shoulder as he moves in behind me––and then we are fighting back to back with the blade-song running through me, painting his every move in my mind as clearly as I am aware of my own limbs. I have seen this before when I was still an outsider, watching Marin and Brac fighting off so many Rapathian assassins it seemed impossible. And yet, my imagination of how it was for them was but a pale shadow of what it is like now, deep in the very heart of it. I know only too well that this connection, this new strength… it does not make us immortal but it is starting to feel that way as the deadly dance flings more and more bodies at our feet.
Then I catch a glimpse of Marin’s face as he looks round and sees us. I can feel the pain of his loss, the lonely absence of the close Soulblade connection with his friends that has been his for most of his life. And is now denied him. I want to tell him that it won’t be forever, but I know a message like that could never be convincing without some kind of proof.
The last half dozen raiders break away and flee. Nem and Brac follow them. We all know that any survivors will be back once we are gone to wreak more destruction on this benighted spot. Marin has taken a cut across one shoulder and I steer him back into our shelter to get some stitches into it. Deris throws more wood on the fire until our sodden clothes are steaming in the light of the flames and the repair is finished.
Rian appears in the doorway, a steaming kettle in her wrinkled hands.
“Sir military commander, thank you. We are grateful for your protection. We have nothing to give beyond the meagre roof over your heads, but I was able to make this for you.”
The aroma of wild mint fills the room as she sets it down and watches as I pour it. It is no substitute for real food, but it is warm and welcome after the rain and the fighting.
“Rian, please stay.” I wait while she finds a pile of wood near the fire to sit on, a frail little bird perching nervously in the flickering shadows. “Are you a seer? I sensed you knew what I was thinking when we first came into your village.”
She nods slowly, as if considering this for herself.
“Sometimes it comes, like a bright ray of sunlight on a cloud-filled day. Other times, not so much. With you, there was a clarity, a strange mix of love and anger there.” She turns her head and gazes past me to Marin and Deris. “In fact, there is something different about all of you. But I do not know what it is.”
“Did you really lay a curse on General Dragar?”
She laughs, a soft cackle in the flame-lit darkness.
“That was one time when I really wished I had that ability––but it is a dark art and I have never tried to learn it. But no matter. His band of uniformed thug-raiders spent an overnight outside the village and he threw us out of our home so he could use it for himself. Forced two of us to fetch and carry for him all evening. So I took the opportunity to spread powdered hyacinth root on his clothes. He will be itching for weeks. And hopefully less eager to occupy any more humble village homes.”
I smile into the firelight, admiring the defiance of this little wraith of a woman who has lost everything from her life except the will to survive. I hold out my tiny scrying bowl.
“Rian, do you know how to use this for far-seeing?”
She takes it, angling it this way and that, watching the firelight glint on the scales of the coiled snake encircling the rim.
“This one is very fine. Sometimes, yes, I can see visions in the water.” She waits while I pour a little water into it, holding the bowl very still. There is no sound in the room now, except the crackling of the fire. Brac and Nem return and catch the mood, edging quietly to the fireside for warmth and a drink.
It was not difficult to guess that Rian would be looking for more raiders. Their shadowy figures appear on the surface of the water, hunched around a meagre fire in a wrecked building like this one. It looks to be a miserable life that serves only to wreak more misery on their unfortunate victims.
“Rian, can you tell how far away they are?”
Her voice has taken on a dreamy quality. “I do not know where, but it is more than three days from here. We may have peace for a little longer.”
“Can you show me how to see through the water?”
She hands back the bowl and lays her hands over mine, her dry wrinkled skin softly rasping against my own.
“Think on something or someone close to your heart.”
The instruction is the same as Marin gave me from his mother’s stories, but this time it is not easy to focus on Alina with the tingling coming from the bowl at Rian’s touch. There is something different happening here, some form of embodied learning from a seer with a deeper gift.
The water remains dark for a long time, until finally a vague image appears. Yes, it is Alina, in her room at Blackthorn, but more than that I cannot tell. Rian’s tired eyes squint closely at the soft, floating image in the instant before it fades to nothing.
“She is your sister. And she is a grand lady while you are living the rough life of a soldier in a cold and ruined village.”
“In reality, her life has been harder and far more dangerous than mine has. And likely to become more so in the next few weeks.”
Rian stares at the darkling water. “Yes. I believe you. But I do not know how or why.”
“Will I be able to do this again without your help?”
“Maybe. You will have to keep trying.” She picks up the empty kettle and disappears into the rain-soaked night.
Marin looks exhausted and is almost asleep. I spread my wolfskin cloak over both of us and move close to him, careful not to disturb the wound on his shoulder. He has closed in on himself once more. Even though I can tell he is trying to reassure me that he wants to be near me, I can feel the empty space his sadness leaves around him. Slowly I reach out, my hand gently stroking its way across his chest, seeking the comfort of that deep closeness we both long to rediscover before it is lost forever.
The rain beats on the roof until sleep takes me.
WE TAKE A LOWER ROAD to avoid the capital and reach Port Giltar on the afternoon of the second day. Marin dismounts and signals Deris to take the lead as he and I follow with the horses, staying close and pulling hoods across our faces. We head for the quayside in search of a ship to give us passage, but the sight that greets us is not encouraging.
The worn wooden planks of the jetty are scored with new splinters and dark stains, no doubt legacy of Rapathian raiding parties securing a rearguard for their invasion. A few sailors and dockworkers heave at ropes, hauling silvery nets of fresh catch from the small fishing boats clustered against barnacle-encrusted posts.
But only one Samarian ocean-going ship rides at anchor in the flotsam-filled water, and the cobbled streets of the portside are almost deserted. I move close to Marin and keep my voice low, curious but anxious not to draw attention to ourselves.
“What happened to all the Samarian ships? I only ever came here once, but that time there were dozens of merchant vessels moored here and the place was crowded with traders and carts loaded with merchandise.”
Marin looks around from beneath the concealing shadow of his hood.
“From what Kashia discovered, the ships are safe but still out at sea. It was an act of local heroism by two fishermen from Seasca. As soon as they saw the vast size of the Rapathian fleet approaching, they guessed the enemy must be using Seasca to disembark their main invasion force.
“They knew immediately that Port Giltar needed to be warned against an attack from land––the very thing the garrison was not expecting. So they stole the two finest horses in the town and reached here with their warning in time for most of the ships to put out to sea before they could be captured. It will be some time before all the ocean-going vessels return to port, but it is some small comfort that not all of Farang’s treacherous plans succeeded.”
His words bring back a jolt of painful memories. I already learned from the Eldrin that the traitor Farang had made sure the two main ports were well defended––and had then advised the Emperor to land his fleet at the smaller port of Seasca, which had no protection.
With terrible consequences for my village.
“Except that he arranged for the invaders to advance from Seasca through Caerlen and they killed my mother and half my people.”
Marin reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry. I should have thought––”
I don’t want to make him feel worse than he already does. That is the opposite of being supportive.
“Don’t be. We all have lost people in this war. I don’t want to make you feel that my losses are worse than everyone else’s.”
We lead the horses away from the jetty to wait in the shadow of an empty warehouse. Brac heads for the nearest tavern to find the ship’s captain and secure our passage. Nem scouts for quiet lodgings where we can stay out of sight.
An old man in a worn grey cloak approaches us, a look of relief and recognition on his face. A clutch of apprehension grips my stomach. Recognition is seriously not what we need just now.
To my relief he heads straight for Deris, who steps forward to grip the stranger’s arm.
“Terrell! I thought we had lost you to a permanent posting in this salty corner of the country?”
“You did. But I have come to guide you to a couple of people you need to meet with. This way.” Terrell leads us through twisting streets to the edge of town. He knocks twice at a heavy wooden gate set in the high stone wall. A small hatch slides back to reveal a frowning face.
“Who goes?”
“Bard, you may be short-sighted but you know me perfectly well.” Terrell takes a step back.
“I don’t know your friends. And these are still dangerous times.”
“They are indeed my friends. And they are Eldrin.”
“Hmph. You should have said so.”
“I just did.”
But I hear the scraping of a heavy bar being lifted and the gate swings open to allow us through into a paved courtyard. A signal from Terrell and a stable boy runs over to take the horses.
Our guide turns back to speak to Deris. “You must stay here tonight. There is provision for your animals and food prepared. I was told you might need somewhere… less conspicuous than one of the quayside inns.”
Marin stoops quickly with instructions for Lupine.
“Go. Find Nem and Brac. Bring them here.”
Even as Lupine runs back to the gate, I hear Deris asking Terrell to make sure the wolf can leave and also get back in again with Nem and Brac. As soon as he has passed instructions on to the grumpy gate-guard, our guide returns and leads us into the house.
“In here.” He opens a door at the end of a long corridor.
The room is large and well-appointed, with chairs set at a long table spread with plates of fresh bread, cheese and pickles. Bowls of ripe fruit catch my eye and the mouth-watering aroma of spiced meat reminds me how hungry I am at the end of a long hungry ride.
I also notice the pile of pallets and blankets spread against the far wall. Several people have been sleeping here, separated from whoever lives permanently in this house.
“I will wait outside to make sure Bard lets your wolf and your friends through.” Terrell walks out and closes the door quietly behind him.
I stare at the empty room, wondering what is meant to happen now. And if it will delay my appointment with dinner.
The inner door opens. A woman in Eldrin livery steps through, looking around anxiously before focusing back on Deris.
“I was told there would be five of you, including our captain. I cannot speak without his authority. Where are the others?”