The Lord of Lies: Strange Threads: Book 2 (22 page)

As the soldiers laughed, Rostigan said nothing, but drew the sword from his back. Heavy, broad and long, the sight of it gave the Tallahowans pause.

The officer, at least, did not seem fazed, and shouted at the others. ‘Are you cowards? We have him outnumbered.’

Following the officer’s lead, they put down their spoils and fanned out around Rostigan. As they set about attacking him, he almost welcomed
it, felt like a statue creaking to life. His sword cared not for their armour, or helmets, or any block from their weapons. His metal broke theirs, and drove shards of breastplates into breasts, helmets into heads. Perhaps they did not deserve what he meted out to them – if not for Forger, they would not be here – yet he disliked their stupidity, their thuggish ransacking of ancient buildings, their eagerness to attack a stranger. Besides, he had to harden himself. If he was to convince Forger of his friendship, better to approach with blood on his hands.

With the soldiers dispatched, Rostigan moved on. There was commotion coming from the direction of the castle, and the closer he got, the more Tallahowans he saw running about. They were looting stores, pillaging homes, upending carts and chests onto the street. He tried to move unseen through backstreets, for he did not want to hack his way through every step he took. Eventually, however, a group appeared around a corner ahead and spotted him.

‘Identify yourself,’ demanded an officer.

Rostigan planted his sword before him, resting his hands upon it.

Not
every
step he took.

‘He must be an Anderan, sir.’

‘Not one from the army. What’s the story, stranger? You have a mercenary look about you.’

‘Silence!’ snarled Rostigan, shoving the word firmly into their minds. The soldiers blanched, and several stepped back.

‘I am Karrak, Lord of
Crows! King of Ander, past and future.’

The officer gave an unconscious shiver, but proved somewhat resistant to Rostigan’s power.

‘You … expect us … to believe that?’

‘I do not care a jot what you believe,’ said Rostigan. ‘You are but worms in the sun of my gaze. Now take me to Forger, or make ready for suffering. Choose quickly.’

The officer glanced around. ‘Well,’ he said, trying to sound sure of himself, ‘I’m certain that Forger would like to meet someone
claiming
to be Karrak. He can decide what to do with you. Follow us.’

Thus escorted, Rostigan experienced no more delays. They made their way onto the main road where an army’s worth of soldiers had been seemingly let loose to do whatever they chose. He wondered if he should feel any sorrow – this
was
his city, after all – and yet he could not quite shudder at the sight. His gaze was too far-seeing now for such sentimental outrage. He simply could not let it distract him.

Nearer the castle, Tallahowans collected out of arrow range of the Anderans on the walls. Others were closer, hiding behind buildings, or darting between bits of cover, firing answering shots. Every now and then a cry sounded as someone was hit.

It was hard to miss Forger – three heads higher than anyone else, the sun gleamed off sweat-shone muscles beneath his haphazard patchwork of leather bits and pieces. There was the bald
head, the piercing blue eyes, the thin lips and the dinted jaw that Rostigan remembered so well. He was bloodied and wounded in various ways, though nothing seemed to hinder him much as he drew back on a bow to take aim towards a nearby tree. Soldiers obscured Rostigan’s view of whatever it was he aimed at, but, as the arrow flew, the scream it found made it easy to guess. As Rostigan moved onwards through the crowd, Forger’s victim came into view – a hapless Anderan tied to the tree, several arrows imbedded in his arms and legs.

Forger took aim again.

’I …’ The man’s head rolled as he tried to speak. ‘I don’t know, I swear!’

Jeers went up from the onlookers.

‘Tell us what you don’t know!’

‘How don’t we get into the castle?’

The arrow flew, thunking into the Anderan’s shoulder.

Very soon, Rostigan would be announced. He felt about for the nearest crow, which was not far away.

Come
, he bid.
I have a gift for you.

Warily it circled downwards.

You won’t be harmed, I promise. Look, there.

The crow glided under the tree, to alight on the arrow still quivering in the soldier’s shoulder. The man gave a grunt and blinked at this new arrival in horror. Forger lowered the bow, staring at the crow in amazement.

Take your prize.

The crow dug into the Anderan’s eye and ripped it out.

Forger spun about, scanning
the crowd. Rostigan stood waiting to be seen. When Forger’s gaze settled on him, his mouth fell open in frank surprise.

‘Keep up,’ said the escorting officer, on realising Rostigan had stopped.

‘I’d get out of the way if I were you,’ said Rostigan.

Forger advanced, brushing aside soldiers like switches, trampling them underfoot. As his stride lengthened, people parted for him more swiftly. Fearfully the officer all but jumped from his path.

‘Lord Forger,’ the man squeaked. ‘We found him in an alleyway. He claims to be –’

‘Karrak!’ boomed Forger. He seized Rostigan by the shoulders and hoisted him up to his eye level. Rostigan sensed the power in that grip, wondered if there was any chance he could match it.

‘By the Spell,’ breathed Forger, ‘I recognise that glower anywhere. It is you!’ He looked like he didn’t know whether to hug Rostigan, or rip him apart.

‘Set me down.’

Forger blinked. ‘Oh! Sorry. I’m just … I wasn’t expecting … goodness me!’

Back on his feet, Rostigan strode past Forger towards the tree, and quickly Forger fell into step beside him. From the corner of his stony glare, Rostigan could see Forger staring at him in wonder, disbelieving that he was here.

‘What,’ said Rostigan, ‘have you been doing to my city, brother?’

That broke
the spell.

‘Your city?’ Forger chortled. ‘I’m afraid you haven’t done much to shore up that claim, my dear.’

‘I suppose you’re right. Who is this man?’

They arrived before the tortured soldier, who was holding his head as far away from the crow as he could, while keeping his remaining eye firmly shut.

‘I don’t know,’ said Forger. He pressed down on an arrow, then released it, setting it vibrating in the soldier’s flesh. ‘Just a fellow we caught. I thought he might know about a secret entrance into the castle. They have those sometimes.’

‘I’d know if they did. So would you.’

‘Maybe they put one in after our time? It doesn’t matter anyway. Even if there was one, I doubt a lowly soldier like this would know about it. I’m just having a little fun.’

‘Mmm. Do you want me to ask him anyway?’

‘Certainly.’

Rostigan threaded words into the man’s head.

‘Soldier, tell us – do you know of any way into the castle besides the main gate?’

The man dared to squint his eye, and through flecked lips he spat his answer.

‘No, damn you!’

Forger shrugged. ‘They fought us on the city walls,’ he said, waving to the north, ‘but I think they expected to hold us back longer. Once we breached, they retreated to the castle. That was always the king’s plan, I think – you remember what a stronghold that place is, and there’s a whole army’s worth of them in there
now. Not to worry. Battering rams are being made and we’ll eventually pound our way through the castle gate. Not much to do but wait. Care for a shot?’

He offered the bow.

Rostigan curled his lip. ‘Why not?’

‘Try not to hit anything important and we can make him last for a few more.’

They moved back from the soldier, who had heard every word of their exchange, and was beginning to blubber incomprehensively. Rostigan knew he would have to follow through with Forger’s suggestion in order to have any hope with him … unless …

Dig deep
, he told the crow.

The crow stabbed into the soldier’s empty socket, all the way up to its neck, and skewered his brain. The man gave a shuddering, piercing cry, then mercifully fell limp.

Begone.

The crow cawed and flapped away.

Rostigan scowled. ‘Worthless creatures.’

‘They obey you, but only a little, eh?’ Forger was regarding him suspiciously. ‘That’s what you always said.’

He took the bow from Rostigan and flung it away.

‘Come. You and I have much to discuss.’

They found a tavern, empty and with a ceiling high enough so that Forger did not have to stoop.

‘Have a seat,’ Forger said, gesturing at the
stools on one side of the bar as he moved around the other. He turned to the barrels and drew them each an ale, pushing Rostigan’s across to him like some hulking parody of a barman. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I would toast to brothers reunited, if I thought I could trust you in the slightest.’

‘I’m aggrieved to hear you say that.’

Forger shrugged. ‘Can you blame me? First you disappear without a trace, then word comes you’ve been helping Yalenna and Braston.’

Rostigan sipped his ale. Here it was time for a tale concocted, and he worried greatly that it would not be believed. As Karrak, he had been adept at telling lies – how else had he convinced his brother to murder their father in order to make his own attack on Borry seem justified? But he had also been able to use his gifted tongue to reinforce untruth. Neither Forger, nor any Warden, would succumb to such surreptitious seduction.

He told himself he did not need the aid of any threading. Had he not effectively lived a lie for many years? He had rid himself of the past, reinvented himself as the good warrior, even looked his own Tarzi in the eyes and made her believe he was a mortal man, without ever once stamping words into her mind. Maybe Tarzi could even help him here, with lessons in theatricality and staying in character.

‘Without a trace!’ he spat. ‘By the Spell, you have been a fool.’

Forger looked abashed. ‘What? Why?’

‘Do you remember the
last night we drank together?’

‘Of course.’

‘We were at the height of our powers, our empire far-reaching, our neighbours turned vassals to be squeezed as tight as we pleased. I had just enslaved half the Plains, by the Spell! Did you think I would willingly give that all up? When our dreams were coming to bear, and further rewards were within our grasp, the sweet beckoning of lands unviolated?’

Forger frowned. ‘I did not. I suspected foul play, and thus I searched for you. But when even Salarkis could not locate you, I feared that you were dead.’

Rostigan slowly shook his head. ‘I did not die.’

‘What happened then?’

‘After we spoke, I fell to thinking. The corruption was growing worse, you remember, and I was drunk and dissatisfied, imprudent. So I went to the Spire.’

‘The Spire!’

‘Yes. I thought perhaps I could find a way to heal the Wound. What good in ruling the world, when it rots beneath our very feet?’

As if on cue, there came a rumbling, and they waited tensely as the room shook. A painting fell from the wall and glasses clinked along shelves, but it passed without further disruption.

‘I wanted,’ continued Rostigan, ‘to save the world, brother … for
us
.’

Forger shivered and drank deeply. ‘You should not have gone to that awful place.’

Rostigan slammed down
his mug. ‘Bah! This ale is thin as piss. Is there nothing back there with a little colour?’

Forger fished about and drew a bottle from beneath the bar. He took a sniff, then poured thick amber liquid into both mugs. Rostigan was pleased – the drunker Forger got, the better. A slick of liquor down his throat might lubricate the swallowing of this wild story. Rostigan led by example, tipping back the mug as if he downed water, and wiped his lips with a grimace.

‘It is good, in the end, that I went to the Spire, though the cost was great indeed. I sat there for a long while, staring up at the Wound. Trying to work it out, you see … but perhaps I stared too deeply, too wantonly. I began to notice things about the patterns I beheld, behind the world’s veil. A remarkable thing, brother – I began to understand the Spell itself.’

‘No.’

‘Regret did, and he was born from woman just like you and I. Why couldn’t I learn to affect the Spell as he did? Thus I sat until I perceived the ebb and flow of things, of time and space. I stared into greatness, lost in a vast expanse of patterns, awed and afraid, and eventually I grew to comprehend what had to be done! How to stitch the Wound, seal it up forever! Ah!’ He took a slug direct from the bottle, and pushed it over to the wide-eyed Forger.

‘Why didn’t you then?’

‘I tried. I tried, oh indeed! But I came to the conclusion I could not do it alone. The process is difficult to explain, something I think I must
show rather than tell, but it equates to a kind of a balancing act. I needed others of equal power to myself, or greater. Wardens working together might achieve it.’

‘So why did you not come to me?’

‘Because …’ Rostigan shook his head. ‘I had not realised … even now I am not quite sure where I lost it …’