Icefall (30 page)

Rasping breaths were the only sound in the echoing space, until the boy gave a trembling sob that he choked off mid-gasp. Seth jerked out of Jed's grip and turned to look at the cowering child, confusion etched on his face.

He dropped his sword with a clatter and swore.

Panting, Jed straightened.

The armourer was drawing back into the moonlit rectangle of the doorway, his mouth tight with frustration; but he'd forgotten Seth's other two fighters. Diorras and Oscarach seized an arm each and held him while Jed stepped over the shivering boy on the floor. Snapping his sword back into its scabbard, he drew his dagger.

‘This,' he said pleasantly, ‘is for getting an infant to fight your battles.' He jammed his blade between two of the man's ribs. The armourer sagged at the knees, his mouth gaping. When dark blood spilled from his mouth and his weight went dead, the fighters let him collapse.

‘Jed,' said Seth quietly. ‘Cuilean. Come with me. Now.'

*   *   *

‘You are pathetic,' murmured Seth. ‘How many times are you willing to do this?'

There was a distinct bite to the wind that moaned across the moorland in the greying dawn. A lemon-gold aura glowed behind the mountain to the east, outlining an ominous silhouette like a hunched ogre hoisting itself above the horizon. You could see where the fairytales came from, thought Jed. He half expected red eyes to blink and open, for the mountain to rise to its feet and crush them with a gigantic arm.

‘I thought you were some kind of vicious predator,' Seth added. ‘And look at you.'

The black wolf cocked his head, grinned, and dropped the stick at Seth's feet. Panting, he gazed up at him with limitless optimism.

Sighing, Seth crouched to pick up the birch twig and launched it into the breeze. It flew far downhill and Branndair bounded after it, elated.

Seth stuck his hands in his pockets and stared bleakly seawards. ‘Sorry about that business back there.'

‘Nah,' said Jed. ‘Makes a nice change. Me having to rein you in.'

‘I nearly killed him.' Seth looked sick.

‘He nearly killed you.' Jed nudged him cheerfully.

‘I'd have been on a level with Glanadair. I'd have had to give up and crawl home and drink myself to death like Leoghar suggested.' Seth licked his dry lips.

‘Give over. Not without Sionnach and Hannah, you wouldn't.'

‘Maybe I should just get them and go home. Maybe I'm not fit to fight Kate.'

‘Like how can you do one and not the other?' Jed lifted a shoulder. ‘She's the one who asked for this. We don't have a choice, Murlainn. She's the one who forced us back here.'

‘Yeah. Finally. Some of them hate us, you know. They hate us for staying away so long and I think they hate us even more for coming back.'

‘So what?' said Jed lightly. ‘I'm not that keen on a lot of them myself.'

‘Thing is,' said Seth, ‘I understand Glanadair's choice. I understand why he did what he did. Maybe I'd have done the same.'

‘Take it from me: not in a million years.'

‘I said I understood him.' Seth gave him a rueful smile. ‘I didn't say I forgave him. Branndair, for gods' sake, can't you just kill that twig and be done with it?'

The wolf's tail thumped. Seth took the stick from his jaws and threw it again.

‘It's a clever trick that woman's got,' he said, as they watched Branndair wrestle the twig down and disembowel it. ‘She can't take your soul without consent. But if she can drain it to next to nothing, you don't care. You'll give the dregs of it up like you were chucking an old wrapper.'

‘Seth, my soul's intact, for what it's worth. And I'm a
complete
bastard.'

Seth laughed. ‘Yeah, fair point. But I've known bigger ones.'

‘Like Glanadair. Give yourself a break, is what I'm saying.'

Seth rubbed his hand across his face. ‘I would, but they're watching me. The whole clann, all the time. They know how close I am to the edge and they're worried, and you know what? They don't even trust me any more. You can bet it's got back to them that I nearly gutted an eight-year-old. You can bet Glanadair's grinning right now. If I pull any more stunts like that one tonight, half my clann might leave me.'

‘They trust you. I trust you, for heaven's sake
.
'

‘Do you?' Seth lifted a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Really?'

Jed's anger came out in a choked scream. ‘Listen to me, you pigheaded fool. If Conal had been our Captain, we'd all have been
dead by last week
. And your precious clann
know it.
'

A muscle jerked in Seth's throat. Words caught in his throat and he swallowed.

Jed threw up his hands. ‘Listen. I'll prove I trust you.'

‘Yeah? Are we going to do that knife-between-the-fingers thing, like we all do when we're drunk?'

Jed clicked his tongue in exasperation. ‘No, we're going to do that thing I don't even do when I'm six feet shy of a straight line and I'm falling-down pissed. That thing where I tell you what I've never told another living soul.'

‘Ha. Given that your tongue's as loose as a bishop's morals when you're—oh.' Seth actually paled. ‘Wait a minute—'

‘Yup. I'm going to tell you what happened between me and Laszlo the day I killed him.'

Seth's double take nearly made Jed laugh aloud. Nearly. ‘I didn't actually think—'

‘Yeah, you thought I was such a drama queen afterwards and I wouldn't tell anyone, and I made this big deal about it, and you thought I really
was
being overdramatic and I'd forgotten by now.'

Seth chewed his lip guiltily. ‘All that. Uh-huh.'

‘So you want to know? Because I haven't forgotten, and I still don't want you to know, but I want you to understand that I
know
you'll never use this against me. I'm going to trust you with this, Murlainn, and the only reason I'm doing that is because I
know you won't lose your soul.
'

He realised he was shaking, and his voice had grown furious. He swallowed.

‘Murlainn, I know what it's like for you. I feel it, don't I? I'm your blood-brother.'

Branndair was at Seth's heels again, the birch twig jammed absurdly in his jaws, but this time Seth just placed a hand on his head to quieten him. ‘Does Iolaire know?'

‘He knows what Laszlo said to me. Most of it.' Jed swallowed. ‘And he knows I mind-linked with Laszlo.'

Seth stared. ‘You did
what
?'

‘Right as he died.' Jed shrugged. ‘I fell into him and he fell right back.'

Seth had gone ashen. ‘How did Iolaire react to that?'

‘Not well.' Jed forced half a smile. ‘You can imagine. You don't look shocked. Well, you do. But you don't look surprised.'

‘Of course I'm not surprised. It happened to me.' Seth laid his palm against Jed's face. ‘I told you. I couldn't avoid your bloody mind, not even the first day we met. Iolaire'll understand.'

‘Iolaire did. Eventually. But Iolaire doesn't know the half of it.'

Branndair reared up and planted his forepaws on Seth's chest. Seth rubbed the wolf's head, scratched his jaw.

‘In that case,' he said slowly, ‘are you sure you want to tell me?'

‘I'm not going to tell you. I'm going to show you.'

Narrowing his eyes, Seth slanted them disbelievingly at Jed. ‘You are?'

Jed tapped his temple. ‘You've been in here before. What's one more time?'

Seth's breathing was harsh now. He pushed Branndair down. ‘You mean that? No, of course you do. It's not like you'd joke.'

Jed clenched his teeth.
I won't back away, I won't. This is for him.

All the same, when Seth took a pace forward and seized the back of his skull, he couldn't help his instinctive flinch. It didn't deter Seth. The force of his mind hitting Jed's made him reel backwards and he almost lost his footing. He felt Seth grab him to stop him falling, but suddenly he didn't know which of them was holding the other.

Bayside pines. The smell of salt and sea. A fire.

Jed's brain swung. Seth gasped.

Small houses, roofed in turf. Not old, though: modern. Trailer-park caravans.

Jed clutched Seth's upper arms, gritting his teeth. Felt strong hands grip his own arms.

Wind turbines and a playpark. John MacLeod's belligerent ruddy face. Mila laughing and waving to him. Eyes lingering.

Guitars. Hippy chicks. Beer and the scent of marijuana. A fat moon playing hide-and-seek behind the summer clouds.

Jed winced as Seth lurched deeper into his mind.

Feet pounding over soft pine needles. Laughing, running for the darkness under the climbing frame. A woman's hand in his, tightening. Her pale hair trickling through his fingers. His reflection in her eyes.

Naked limbs. Sweat and quickening breath.

‘Holy
shit.
' Seth flung himself free, staggering back from Jed. ‘
SHIT.
'

Jed clutched the back of his neck, panting, trying to keep his balance.

Seth was rubbing his forehead wildly. Branndair crouched low, ears flat, whimpering as he gazed up at his master.

‘Not your memories,' said Seth, breathing hard.

‘No. But I kept them.' Jed let his head hang down, wishing the blood would come back to it. ‘I'm not sure I had a choice. I don't think I could ever get rid of them.'

‘Nils fecking Laszlo.' Seth's eyes were still wide and stunned.

And suddenly Jed was blindsided by regret.
What did I think I was doing? I should never have shown him this. NEVER.
Shame racked him down to the bones. He bit his lip hard, straightened, looked Seth grimly in the eye.

‘You see? You see why Skinshanks liked me? See why it thought I had so much promise?'

There was horror etched on Seth's face, and Jed didn't want to see that. ‘It knew. The bastard.'

‘It knew.' Jed lifted his shoulders, tired beyond imagining. ‘So did Laszlo. And I found out.' He gave a desperate laugh. ‘But not till the day I killed him. Know what Laszlo's exact words were, the ones I didn't quite tell to Iolaire?
Welcome to my world, son.
'

‘He was nothing to you,' said Seth, his voice hard. ‘It was Conal who was everything. I can tell you that from experience.'

‘There's a lot to biology,' Jed said. ‘There's method in genes. And if you don't want me around, I'll understand. I'll get it. Totally. I'll leave if you want. But I wanted someone to know.' He hesitated, and his voice cracked. ‘I wanted
you
to know.'

Seth came so close to him, their faces were almost touching. He put his palm on the back of Jed's skull, watched each eye carefully in turn. ‘Don't go. Don't you dare go. I need you more than I ever did.'

‘All right.' Jed's heart clenched. ‘Since you asked. I won't go, then. And on your own damn-fool faery head be it.'

‘Good.' Seth kissed his lips gently. ‘The gods know we can't choose our fathers.'

 

Finn

‘Can you sense
anything
off those riders? A mind, a block?'

Seth sounded curious, but not frantic, not overly alarmed. Since that dawn after the raid on Faragaig, when he'd gone off and talked with his blood-brother for hours, there was something calmer about him. It might have been Jed's counsel; it might have been that we were properly armed and equipped at last: we had weapons, more than enough horses, more than thirty new fighters. The odds were shrinking in our favour, but I didn't think that was all it was. It couldn't be, since Kate's troops in her underground fortress were still more than treble our number.

Anyway, I was glad. Seth's mind was not a constant turmoil any more, grating harshly against mine; and even the clann had sensed the change in his mood. They seemed more confident altogether, more relaxed about the prospect of following him, even if it was to bloody defeat. I reckoned they'd begun to trust him again.

‘I can't sense anything,' I told him as I cantered the black up alongside the blue roan. ‘Not a mind, not a block, nothing. And have you ever heard a voice? They say nothing. They don't call out, not ever. You know what I think? It's witchcraft. Some trick of Kate's to throw us off balance.'

And no Lammyr stalked us. That confused me, but I wasn't going to object. I felt them sometimes, watching, keeping their distance, but they never came in sight.

We'd raided a couple more settlements, but bloodlessly. We took food and yet more weapons at swordpoint, but we never actually had to use the swords, because the villagers put up token fights or none at all. A couple of times, groups of fighters rode out of the settlements in our wake and quietly joined us. The village Captains would have liked to give us supplies and fighters voluntarily, that's what Fearna thought, but they wouldn't dare. Our threat of violence was as much for the villagers' good as for our convenience. Even then, I doubted it would do them much good if we came back defeated.

By ‘came back defeated,' of course, I mean ‘never came back at all.'

But that likely prospect didn't haunt me today, with my lover at my side and the sun overhead and my black powerhouse of a water-demon beneath me, its muscles warm and bunched, its eyes sparking green from its long years running wild and unmastered. The blue roan was happy too. It tossed its head, not resisting the bridle so much as proving a point. The two of them were high as predatory birds from bullying the new horses, and having their wicked way with some of the mares.

We rode the pair through the steep green oakwood above our latest camp, Branndair close at the roan's heels, Faramach playing slalom-flight with the oak trunks. When we reached open high ground, we galloped the kelpies till they'd grown marginally less hyperactive and savage.