Shadowkings (27 page)

Volyn acted without hesitation, snatched a weighted dagger from his belt and hurled it at the assassin. The dagger caught him between neck and shoulderblade and the arrow shot off to one side, fell into the water and sank out of sight. And afterwards, after all the confusion and hearty congratulations and bestowing of honours by the city fathers, it was the thrill of that moment that stayed with him, that moment when everything -
everything
- had been in his hands.

The second time was in the terrible dark days just after the Emperor had died at Arengia. The southern provinces had not yet fallen, but with all the Imperial armies of any consequence broken by the Mogaun and their sorcerous allies it was only a matter of time. Arogal Volyn had been in Adnagaur, close to exhaustion after a three-day ride from the battle of Baspur Vale where the Roharkan militias had been crushed by a Mogaun host and flocks of winged horrors called down by the Acolytes of Twilight. In despair he had fled east, back to Cabringa and the provincial capital and his family, only to find his brother, Keraun, struck down by sickness and hovering on the brink of death.

There in that room, Volyn learned how the woman his brother had married two years before was a direct descendant of Coulabric Tor-Cavarill, and thus also their child, Alael. With his fading strength, Keraun showed his brother several brittle, yellowed parchments which proved the claim, then begged him to help his wife and child. With the male scions of House Tor-Galantai slain, Keraun asserted that only the line of Tor-Cavarill could now provide a fitting monarch for Khatrimantine. Through his weary sorrow Volyn felt the bright, invigorating touch of destiny once more and vowed to protect his brother's wife and the infant Alael, and to work towards the goal Keraun believed in.

It had all been going so well, the alliance with the Knights of the Fathertree, the growing ties, the detailed planning of the uprising. Then at the eleventh hour came the unexpected, Korregan's bastard son by the Duchess of Patrein. Volyn's support for Tauric was intended to allay any suspicions of ill intent, an apparent burying of the hatchet. So that when Tauric fell into his hands, he was finally free to act according to the fundamental purpose of the Hunter's Children. Once the uprising had begun, the Fathertree Knights would be forced to lend their aid, and if the boy Tauric had to die...well, tragic accidents happen in times of war.

These thoughts and others came to his mind as he led Coulabric's girl-heir by her hand out of the draper's back door and across the lightless yard. He shuddered inwardly to think how close he had been to losing the most precious person in all of Khatrimantine. Mazaret's intent could only have been that of murder, and if he had been permitted just a few more seconds with Alael she would be dead and the future would have belonged to a crippled, untutored boy.

All life is a struggle against corruption
, Arogal Volyn thought grimly.

There was an acrid taint of smoke on the air and he could hear cries and shouts coming from the square and a clash of swords from the darkened building next door. Volyn felt his smouldering anger flare up at having to abandon one of the Children's most valuable safe houses. The idiot townsmen and Vaush's paid thugs had between them turned Oumetra into a cauldron of malice and resentment, but it was Mazaret and his allies who had almost taken advantage of the situation.

"Have courage, Alael," he murmured over his shoulder. "Once across the canal we shall be safe with other friends."

In the poor light her features were unreadable but the weakness of her grip on his hand and the way she trailed behind him made plain her reluctance. He curbed his annoyance and kept it from showing as he led her across the yard to the corner furthest from the back door. There were a couple of planks missing from the heavy wooden fence and through the gap Volyn was just able to make out the form of one of Geraine's men standing nearby. Gesturing Alael to be silent and still, Volyn flattened himself against the fence and made a 'hsst' sound. After a moment the man's head and shoulders appeared, and Volyn struck a savage blow to his throat. The man gave a choking gasp and collapsed in the opening, half in the yard, half out on the walkway.

"Quickly," he said to Alael, steering her through the gap. He then bent and dragged the insensible man into the shadowy yard before following her.

Beyond the break Volyn paused to survey their surroundings, the nearby footbridge and the path on the other side of the canal. All seemed to be safely deserted for now. He looked at Alael and beckoned.

"Come - friends await us."

But she did not move, just stood half turned away from him, her head lowered. He felt his irritation rise again and forced his voice to remain calm as he spoke.

"Alael, right now time is our foe and haste our only ally. We must be gone else our enemies corner us - "

"But what if I do not wish to go, Uncle Volyn? What if I do not wish to become a great queen? Have you never thought to ask me whether that is what I want?"

There was an anguish and a strength in her voice that Volyn had never heard before and while he was angered by her words, part of him was pleased.

"What we want and what we must do are not always the same," he said in low tones. "You know who your forebears are, what blood flows in your veins, and what destiny has gifted to you and yours..."

"Yes, I know because you and mother told me." She gazed out at the canal, her long hair pale in the darkness. "You both think you know so much about me," she said bitterly. "But you don't. There are things I have which are mine alone. Things which are not destiny's toys!"

Volyn stared at his niece with cold fury in his eyes. She glanced up to see his expression and backed away a step or two.

"
Destiny?
What do
you
know of destiny? You think it to be some grand force, arranging and moving us all like pieces on a game board, like a puppet master pulling a myriad strings?" He shook his head. "No, no. Destiny is like a mote, or a seed of glory floating across the lands, touching this life or that, drifting here and there like a feather on an endless journey. When it comes to us we have to be ready to grasp it with all our strength, harness it to our will and commit ourselves to the path of greatness..." His voice softened. "When the moment comes, choices become stark and some things, precious things, have to be discarded so that the seed of destiny can grow unhindered. I wish you could see that..."

She had not altered her stance but there was a hint of uncertainty in the way she bit her lower lip. Volyn sighed, spread his hands and stepped closer.

"But perhaps you are right. I'm getting old, and sometimes I forget what it is to be young and at the start of life." He laid a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. "I only have one thing to ask of you."

"What is it, Uncle?"

"Forgive me," he said and with his other hand in a fist quickly struck her on the jaw, just heavily enough to stun her. As she went limp he caught her and lifted her onto his shoulder, then hurried along to the footbridge.

Startled by sounds of fighting, several birds darted from the eaves of the building next door in a burst of fluttering wings, like shadow rags flitting and wheeling among greater shadows. Volyn was almost at the other side of the bridge with his burden when he heard soft swift footsteps come up behind him. Turning, he fumbled for the crossbow with his free hand, then went still as he looked round at the point of a sword raised to his face.

"Carefully place the girl on the walk," said Ikarno Mazaret, pale eyes cold and angry beneath dishevelled grey hair.

Volyn did so, bending with Alael cradled so that her head did not strike the wooden fencing. She moaned, eyes fluttering open. Volyn straightened and, with his gaze still on her, took a half step sideways towards Mazaret then brought his elbow round in a sharp arc, knocking the sword aside. With a growl of triumph, he swung his other fist with his full weight. Mazaret sidestepped the oncoming blow, grabbed Volyn's upper arm and pushed him across the bridge. Volyn struck the bridge's wooden handrail, it broke under the impact and he fell through the air, plunging into the freezing canal.

The water seemed to suck the warmth from his bones as he struggled to the surface. Shaking drops from his head, he heard footsteps receding and his rage filled him as he shucked off his cloak, swam over to a rusty iron ladder near the bridge. Uttering a string of curses, he began to climb. He pictured in his mind all the agonies and indignities he would inflict upon Mazaret, alongside his fear for Alael. He was almost at the top of the ladder when a hand came down, grasped his arm and pulled him up. Back on the canalside he squeezed water from his eyes and looked into the grim visage of his lieutenant, Kodel.

Relief surged through him. "Sentinel! - I cannot express my savage joy at the sight of you here. Coulabric's heir is in gravest danger, taken from me by the leader of those pettty knights. Now there are two of us and if we are quick we can yet retrieve what is - "

He stepped forward but Kodel put out a hand and shoved him backwards. Volyn was astonished then furious.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Kodel gave a sneer of contempt. "What a blustering, blundering oaf you have been, you and that clanking relic Mazaret. Now neither of you have the girl - she was up and off like the wind before he could lay a hand on her."

"I don't believe you."

Kodel shrugged. "I care not. For you are a fool, Captain, and you will die a fool's death."

Volyn tore his heavy broadsword from its sheath with a metallic hiss, and spat on the stone flags. "Treacherous dog! I'll split your face like a rotten cabbage!"

Kodel's only reply was a slight smile as, in a single leisurely movement, he unsheathed his narrower blade and attacked. Instantly Volyn knew that he was staring at his death, and was barely able to parry the cascade of lightning-fast thrusts and cuts. Kodel hardly seemed to under strain at all, his every blow and feint seemingly effortless while Volyn was fighting with everything he had.

He could not outfight Kodel, or outrun him along this canal, so his only chance of survival was to make a break for the bridge in the hope that he could get back to the draper's and out among the crowd. Then the opening came - he beat Kodel's sword back with a flurry of furious blows then spun on his heel and dashed towards the bridge, heart hammering in his chest, grabbed the wooden rail to swing himself round onto the span.

He was just a few steps across when he felt the sword enter his back low down and to one side, a flare of agony and the sense of deep, terrible damage. He staggered then slumped to his knees, blade hilt slipping from weak fingers, other hand barely able to hold himself up. There were steps nearby and a figure standing over him. He felt something hot pouring down his back then his arm gave way and he was aware of being pushed between the posts of the railing.

Great Father forgive me
...
Alael forgive me
, he thought as he fell from the bridge.
Who will protect you?
...

And for the second time he was engulfed by the canal's dark and icy waters.

Thus the Nytebear prowls and roars,
'Neath fullest moon and blackest nyte,
Whilst the Skyhorse stalks in stealth,
Hiding her wings and greatest might.

—Temple carving from Northern Khatris, trans. Antil Fehris

Tauric shivered in the cold and coughed quietly, trying to clear his throat of the irritating reek of burning. In the quarter-hour since Kodel's departure, the fires Tauric had seen earlier seemed to have spread and a haze of smoke now blanketed the area. Gauzy light haloed a scattering of canalside lamps and the reflected glow from the square behind the high buildings across the canal was a dull, sullen orange.

He and the Armourer sat within the alcove in silence. He had known from past experience how fruitless it was to try and engage the big, impassive man in anything resembling pleasant conversation. Instead he rested as best he could with his damp cape held closed across his chest and stared into the dark shadows further along the canal towards the centre of Oumetra, the direction in which Kodel had gone.

But after their long journey from the forest of Falador, it was not easy to stay alert and he found himself having to stifle yawn after yawn. He dozed a moment or two, and then the massed sound of wings, mingled with a shrill piping, startled him fully awake and he jerked in surprise as a small cloud of birds sped past, some only feet away. In wonder Tauric leaned out of the alcove and watched them wheel in unison like a single creature climbing higher above the city, with other birds joining the flock as it rose still higher till they were lost to sight. He smiled as he looked back at the Armourer, who had apparently missed the entire spectacle. That was when he first spotted the girl running towards them along the side of the canal.

Her long hair flew like a banner as she came on, hair so pale it was almost white. Tauric found himself staring as she neared, as her features grew more distinct in the weak light. A taut feeling uncoiled within him, like the hollow panic brought on by teetering over an abyss, except there was more - expectation, fascination, and recognition.

He recalled the abandoned mill and the vision that had assailed him in his sleep, the armoured warriors who fell apart when he struck them and the one whose helm he wrenched away to reveal a woman with long white hair and eyes like starpoints...

The girl caught sight of him and slowed, staring directly at him. Her hair, he saw, was very light brown and her eyes were quite normal. But it was her, he was certain. He stepped out of the alcove towards her, ignoring the Armourer's grunt of disapproval, and her expression became fearful, her mouth gaping, one hand outstretched in denial.

"No," she whispered. Then louder: "No!" And she broke into a run again, rushing past Tauric and off down the canal towards a footbridge.

Seized by a nameless need Tauric looked back at the Armourer who was now on his feet, beckoning him to return to his side. Then another figure emerged from the darkness at a run - the Lord Commander Mazaret.